


A Strange Connection

by Yidkirkin



Category: Eyeshield 21, Worst - 髙橋ヒロシ | Takahashi Hiroshi
Genre: American Football, Drunkenness, Friendship, Gangs, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Moving On, Past Character Death, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Esteem Issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-27
Updated: 2015-11-26
Packaged: 2018-05-03 13:54:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 30,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5293628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yidkirkin/pseuds/Yidkirkin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Sakuraba runs after Shin in the forest at the start of training, he has no idea he'll be spending the next two weeks with a depressed gang member. When Shougo goes to Yokohama to get over his boss's death, he didn't know that he would be playing host to a discouraged Amefuto player. Can they each move on with the other's assistance? Gen fic. Mostly canon compliant.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Strange Tumble

**Author's Note:**

> Moved over from FFnet. Super slow updates after it's all up.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

WARNING: SPOILERS ARE PROBABLY AHEAD.

 _Everyone's running… Aiming for the top…_ Sakuraba watched as Shin ran into the forest in front of him, the strong back of his teammate never faltering even in the thick and treacherous underbrush of the 'Suicide forest'*. Beside him, Takami was fretting about Shin's lack of a GPS, and suddenly Sakuraba was seized by a powerful feeling of desperation.

Sakuraba had been feeling left out lately. He had just come out of the hospital and had been trying to get back into the swing of things, but what with still being swarmed by fangirls, the lingering depression that not even Torakichi's wrist band could completely wipe out and the faint feelings of inadequacy at every sight of Shin, Sakuraba was finding it increasingly common to just sit on the sidelines of any situation he encountered. Sakuraba wanted to be included, wanted to support his team at his best and be supported in return, and most of all he wanted to be acknowledged by Shin.

He wanted to walk side by side with the best linebacker, and his best friend. He wanted to be worthy of the praise that was heaped upon him by the media and he wanted to show Torakichi that he could be a true role model. He wanted… he wanted…

"I'll catch up to him!" He exclaimed, and Sakuraba began running after Shin at his top speed, leaving behind Takami, Wakana and Otawara without a second glance. All that was on his mind was Shin. _If Shin is going to train up here in these mountains…_ Sakuraba thought, _then I'll train just as much! Anywhere you go, I'll chase after you, even with my mediocre ability!_

Shin was also running at his top speed, but for the next two hours Sakuraba was able to keep Shin within his sights. The desperation he still held close urged him on, making him ignore his aching muscles and ruined clothing in the sudden rush of adrenaline. Panting, drenched in sweat and fighting exhaustion, Sakuraba kept running even after the other teen vanished into the dark forest. He kept running even after he could no longer hear the sound of the other's running, and even still after he started to see black spots in his vision. It was only after realizing that now he too was lost did the receiver slow down, his entire body shivering and covered in scratches and sweat, his feet coming to an unsteady stop.

All around him the sounds of the forest filled the air, but the only thing Sakuraba could hear was the pounding of his overworked heart. Even running with all of his might, was this as far as he could go? _Is this the most I can amount to?_ Sakuraba drew in several shuddering breaths, trying to calm himself, and then surreptitiously wiped at his eyes with his sleeve. Looking around at last, he found that he was unable to recognize a single landmark, and the bottom of his stomach dropped out. Sakuraba felt his breath quicken again for an entirely different reason, acutely aware of the emptiness of the woods around him, and so he turned around and began to try and make his way back to the road in the darkness.

The teen wandered for another hour, unknowingly going far off course with every stumbling step he took. His tired mind fizzled and spat as it kept going only enough to ensure his continued movement. When the last of his energy left him, Sakuraba's legs buckled and he fell sideways, tripping over a branch as he did. The last thing he remembered before he passed out was the sensation of falling, and a horrible, sickening feeling of dread growing in the pit of his stomach.

vvv

When Sakuraba awoke, it was to a painful light shining in his eyes and a widespread throbbing over his entire body. He was far too warm and felt very constricted, though he was also thankfully devoid of sweat. His ears rang as his eyes adjusted, and as he blinked the sleep away he turned his head to try and ascertain just where in the world he was.

The first thing he truly registered seeing was the dresser on the opposite wall from him, so high up from his perspective that he must have been on a futon* and not a bed. The second thing he saw was the intimidating man sitting against the dresser, fast asleep but almost completely straight in his posture. He had unkempt black hair that fell into his eyes and a rather large scar down the right side of his face, and was making a pained expression that only accentuated the scar. Sakuraba jerked back unconsciously at the fact that he had not noticed him right away, but this action only caused him to groan in pain.

The throbbing that up until now had been ignorable was now at the forefront of his mind, most prominently in his skull where it pressed up against his forehead and refused to dim back down. Chancing a look downwards, Sakuraba was alarmed at the amount of bandages he could see just on his upper arms, and realized then that he would likely find more if he was inclined to check. His arms felt like lead and his legs weren't much better, not to mention that even the act of titling his head made his headache grow. Another groan escaped him as he lowered it back onto the pillow, and this time it seemed to be enough noise to wake his host.

The man's eyes snapped open, the pained look changing instantly into one of terror before the man caught sight of Sakuraba staring at him. He immediately looked concerned, and reached up to brush the hair out of his eyes as if he were unused to it being there. Sakuraba waited patiently for the man to come back to himself.

"How are you feeling?" The man's first sentence revealed a deep voice, but monotonous, as if all the feeling had been drained from it. Sakuraba coughed minutely to try and clear his throat, but the man reached over to the low table and grabbed a glass of water. He helped Sakuraba drink it before settling back to wait for Sakuraba to speak.

"I feel awful. What happened? Where am I?" The man sighed and rested his arms on his knees, looking immensely tired as he spoke.

"You should feel awful. You fell down a hill at the edge of a forest; you have a mild concussion I think, and a whole lot of bruises, scrapes and cuts all over. Luckily you don't have any broken bones, or I would have taken you to the hospital. Regardless, you are in my house, in Yokohama*." The man nodded in lieu of a hand shake. "My name is Murata Shougo."

Sakuraba felt his jaw drop. _Fuck._ "Yokohama?! How on Earth did I get to Yokohama from the Jukai?!" Also, how had he managed to get himself injured _again_? He was supposed to train with the others, now he was going to be out of commission for at least a week-

"Uh, Murata-san, how long have I been out?"

"Two days since I found you. It's Wednesday, if that helps." _FUCK._

Groaning, Sakuraba sat up; using all his willpower in order to withstand the protests his body gave him. Shougo looked briefly as if he was going to intervene, but didn't move when he saw Sakuraba falter about standing. Ignoring his audience for the moment, Sakuraba covered his eyes with his hands and swore vehemently, hissing when this action aggravated his left shoulder. Sakuraba swore again.

"You really shouldn't be moving." Shougo said, his toneless voice making Sakuraba feel guilty. "You're just going to make it worse. Now lay back down and rest, I'll have food for you when you wake up again." Shougo gently forced the blonde back down onto the mat and placed a cool facecloth on his forehead. Sakuraba protested initially, but backed down when Shougo gave him a blank glare. "Rest." Against his wishes, his body it seemed was intent on following that order, and so within minutes Sakuraba was dead to the world, leaving his host to sigh and leave the room.

vvv

Sakuraba woke up for the second time in much the same manner as the first, only this time the light outside was decidedly placed in the late afternoon. His head felt marginally less like it was full of barbed wire, and he sat up with less difficulty, though his body still protested against him. Shougo was not in the room this time, but Sakuraba could hear movement coming from deeper inside the residence. Spotting another glass of water on the bedside table, Sakuraba drank it gratefully and set it aside just as the door to the room slid open.

"Good, you're awake." Shougo stated, placing one plate on the table and sitting against the dresser with the second. Sakuraba's stomach growled traitorously and he began eating the food with a burning face, Shougo only showing he heard it with the faintest ghost of a smirk. "It's Thursday now, by the way. I have never seen someone as injured as you sleep so well."

"Thank you?" Sakuraba said hesitantly, not quite knowing how to respond. "Oh, uhm, I haven't introduced myself have I?" Gingerly, Sakuraba extended a hand for Shougo to shake once the man had put down his plate. "I'm Sakuraba Haruto. Thank you so much for a-all you've done for me." As Shougo released his hand, he scrutinized the blonde with an unreadable expression, and Sakuraba quickly went back to his food if only to avoid what he was sure was going to be an awkward questioning of his identity. But the scarred man said nothing, indeed he barely moved at all except to pile his utensils securely on his plate.

It was only after Sakuraba had cleared his plate as well that Shougo spoke. "You're going to be out of commission for at least another week or two*. I'm not sure why you were passed out on the side of the road, nor why you thought you were still in the 'suicide forest'-" At this, Sakuraba turned red again and ducked his head. "-but if you need to… you can stay here until you recover. Sometimes a break from your usual surroundings can do a lot of good." Sakuraba looked up to see Shougo staring out the window, his face twisted up as if he were thinking of something unpleasant.

Sakuraba stared out of the window too, thinking about his team back home. Takami and Wakana would be worried sick by now, Shogun probably even more so as he was something like their guardian while they were training. Sakuraba didn't know how Shin would be feeling right now, but he suspected the stoic boy wouldn't let it get in the way of his training. Thinking about that made Sakuraba both sad and relieved; he wanted his best friend to worry, but at the same time he'd feel incredibly guilty if Shin was distracted.

"If it's not too much trouble, I think I'll take you up on that offer, Murata-san." The other man glanced over; apparently having been somewhat distracted himself. "Though, if you have one, would you mind if I used your phone?"

Shougo nodded and grabbed their dishes before he left the room, returning shortly after to drop off the cordless before disappearing again. Sakuraba dialed Takami's number with trembling fingers; he was quickly losing what little energy he had left, and he was nervous about Takami's reaction. The ringer sounded for several seconds before Takami answered with his usual curt greeting.

"Takami? It's Sakuraba." The line was silent, which only caused Sakuraba's nerves to grow, before Takami let out a choking sound and immediately began speaking.

"Sakuraba, where on Earth _are_ you?!" Sakuraba winced at the volume; it made his tender skull act up again. "We've all been worried sick, we didn't know what happened to you after you went running after Shin like that! What were you thinking, what happened!?-"

Sakuraba drew in a breath. "I'm sorry, Takami." The quarterback fell silent rather abruptly. "I-I fell and kind of… knocked myself out. Some guy found me and brought me to the- uh- hospital, but I'm alright now." Sakuraba was _not_ going to go into it with Takami right now. "I'm staying at a relative's house in- Setagaya-ku* to recover. I won't be back for another week, at the earliest. I'm sorry I didn't call, but I didn't wake up until yesterday."

Sakuraba waited for Takami to come up with a response, all the while only feeling slightly guilty for lying. _Maybe I do need some time to myself…_

"Thank god you're fine." Sakuraba could hear the relief in Takami's voice, but he stayed quiet. "A week you say? Do you need me to bring anything to you?"

Sakuraba's first instinct was to say yes, but he quashed it down fairly quickly. "No, it's fine, I'm all set. But it could be two weeks, depending on… on how serious my concussion is. Please tell everyone that I'll be back soon." They talked for another minute about his health before the call ended, and Sakuraba lowered himself back onto the futon while putting the phone on the bedside table. He could feel his eyes drooping again and wondered fleetingly about why he was so tired.

vvv

The third time Sakuraba woke up, it was in the early morning and his body was painfully letting him know of a few basic necessities he had ignored the past few days. Struggling into a sitting position, Sakuraba removed the blankets from his person and found that he was indeed covered in many more bandages as well as a foreign pair of sweat pants. Disregarding this for the moment, Sakuraba used the wall to prop his right knee up, and proceeded to shimmy himself to his feet. He felt heavy and unnatural in his own body, but wobbled to the door successfully by using the wall as a support.

When he entered the hallway, he was unsure about which way to go, this being a stranger's home after all. Hearing ruffling sounds from a doorway to his left, Sakuraba decided that that was his best bet, and so he made his way towards the noise. It took far more effort than he had expected, but eventually he reached his destination, and could only stand staring at the sight he had come upon.

Shougo was slumped at the kotatsu, asleep and looking more rumpled that he had previously. Around his head were more than half a dozen beer cans (and a strong brand at that), and more than a couple of cigarette butts. The rustling sound had been made by the drapes above the open window, and in the corner was a small family shrine* with the incense still burning, filling the air with a sweet, soft smell. Sakuraba stayed frozen for a good minute before he stepped forward and tentatively shook Shougo awake.

"Murata-san? Murata-san, you shouldn't sleep here. You'll get sick." The man stirred and blinked blearily at Sakuraba before hissing lightly at the intruding light from the window. He brushed the hair out of his eyes again but kept his hand resting on his forehead, a faraway look coming into his eyes momentarily before he truly registered Sakuraba's presence.

"Sakuraba? You shouldn't be up." The blonde frowned gently.

"I need to use the washroom, Murata-san. I didn't want to snoop." Shougo nodded, and told him where it was without further prompting. By the time Sakuraba was finished, the living room had been cleared and Shougo was making breakfast. He gestured for Sakuraba to sit down, and soon the two were eating as if the receiver hadn't just found Shougo passed out and hung over.

"So, Murata-san… uh, why don't you tell me about yourself? I'd like to know a bit about my, uhm, savior. Heh." Shougo raised an eyebrow, but otherwise didn't react much beyond nodding.

"If you'll do the same." Sakuraba readily agreed, anything to spare himself awkward silences, and so Shougo started.

"Well, I'm 17, so if I were still in school I would be a sophomore. I have a motorcycle license and dabble in boxing. I live by myself in Toarushi*; this is my late grandparent's home." Sakuraba listened intently. "I have an older brother, Juuzou, and several good comra… friends. I'm only here to sort out a few personal problems. Other than that, I really can't think of much to tell you. Though I suppose I must say that I won't be the best of company."

Sakuraba waved the self-deprecating warning away easily. "I think you're alright, Murata-san."

"Hm."

Sakuraba scratched his cheek in thought. "I suppose I should tell you about myself now too. Well, I live in Tokyo by myself, in Arakawa-ku* and I have a job at a modeling agency. I'm also 17, though I still go to school, Oujou High. I also play receiver for the Oujou White Knights, the American Football team, I wouldn't say I'm very good though. I have a few good friends who're all on the team too. Most of my life revolves around Amefuto, so I don't have much to talk about either." Sakuraba smiled embarrassedly and munched on his curry in the resulting silence.

Shougo, despite his lackluster behavior, turned out to be a competent host, giving Sakuraba a tour of his home so that he wouldn't go somewhere he wasn't supposed to. He lent Sakuraba a spare toothbrush and some clothes; they were a bit big but Sakuraba would manage. When that was taken care of, Shougo insisted they change his bandages, so for the first time the blonde was able to see what his injuries really looked like.

It was worse than he had thought. Sakuraba stared down at himself in quiet horror during the small absence of his host; after all the soiled bandages had been removed, Shougo had to go to the store to buy more. Without the other man there, Sakuraba was free to inspect himself, and he had to wonder just how big of a hill he had fallen down. His ribs, thighs and arms were practically coated in bruises, and interspersed with the discolorations were deep and stinging scrapes probably caused by either rocks or branches. Even worse, his upper arms were quite chewed up, he must have unconsciously protected his face during the fall, and he had a large gash just above his left temple. Thankfully, his throwing arm had not bore the brunt of the damage, and was only truly burdened by a slightly twisted elbow; that, at least, would heal relatively quickly.

Shougo came back inside just as Sakuraba was attempting to prod at a bad bruise on his back, and looked for a moment as if he had seen a ghost. Sakuraba spotted the other in the mirror before he could recover.

"Are you alright, Murata-san?" This was apparently the right thing to ask, as Shougo snapped out of his trance and pushed Sakuraba down to sit on the toilet seat.

"I'm fine. Let's get these wrapped." Shougo pulled out some peroxide along with the bandages, and proceeded to swipe at the still healing lacerations and such before deftly putting the wrappings in place. Sakuraba was still slightly hesitant on overstaying his welcome, so while Shougo did this, he scrambled for something to fill the silence.

"Oh, uhm, now that I think on it, how exactly _did_ I get from the Jukai to here, Murata-san? It's a bit far…" Shougo moved on from his head to his left arm, and looked far more tired than he really should, given the amount of time he had presumably had to himself.

"I was out riding. I took the road near the Jukai because I- like the scenery. You weren't anywhere near it though. I came upon you in Asahigaoka*." _Wow, I wandered so far off course it isn't even funny._ "It was the middle of the night, so I strapped you on and brought you here." Sakuraba could only thank the other man again, and after a few minutes decided to speak about something else.

"Have you ever watched any Amefuto, Murata-san? Maybe played?"

"No, I only know of it from a senpai of mine back in middle school." Sakuraba nodded in understanding; it wasn't uncommon in Japan to have little knowledge of the still foreign sport. So Sakuraba changed the subject again, knowing that he wasn't going to be able to carry on a one sided talk about Amefuto, no matter how much he could ramble.

"Have you ever played any other sports?" A less than gently applied peroxide swipe had him hissing as the other was presumably not expecting the question. Shougo let out an odd rumbling sound as he finished preparing Sakuraba's right arm.

"I… I used to play baseball. But I suffered from a shoulder injury during my final year of middle school. I haven't played since." Sakuraba got the distinct impression that Shougo wasn't too terribly bothered by it, even so he tried to say something comforting.

"That's awful. It's always bad when things like that happen, no matter what sport." Shougo hummed in acknowledgement, but once again the conversation fizzled out fairly quickly. Shougo patted Sakuraba's shoulder once he was done with all the re-bandaging, and then helped him back to the living room.

vvv

The rest of the week was very quiet, neither speaking much despite the fact that they stayed in each other's company for the majority of the time. Sakuraba alternated between sleeping and doing a few household tasks that weren't too strenuous on him. He was still hesitant that he hadn't overstayed his welcome, and so to pacify him Shougo had begun to give him things to do to let him 'earn his keep' so to speak. Shougo himself was kept occupied by his puttering around the small apartment, never in one place for very long, except for when he sat in front of his shrine in the evenings. He spent hours sitting there every night, and once Sakuraba had woken to find him slumped in the same sitting position that he had been in when the blonde had gone to bed the night before.

Sakuraba wasn't about to intervene, he knew people dealt with grief in different ways; if Shougo wanted help he would most likely ask for it. He himself, while not grieving the loss of someone, was attempting to work through his own issues during this impromptu break he'd been given. He had already devised the training program he would follow once he got back on his feet, keeping in mind his still healing injuries of course. Sakuraba was determined to give the training his all in order to catch up to Shin, even though in the back of his mind he couldn't help but feel that whatever he did was going to be a waste.

Therefore he was unprepared for any sort of action on his part when he had fallen asleep on Monday night, one week after he had gotten lost.

It was quite late when Sakuraba was startled awake by a loud clatter from the living room. Worried, Sakuraba shuffled to the door, careful of his path in the darkness, and headed to investigate the noise. Similar to earlier, Sakuraba was quite unprepared for what he came upon in the room, but unlike previously, he did not freeze when he saw it.

Shougo was lying in the middle of the room, a lamp smashed on the floor and blood seeping from the crown of his head. Beer cans were _everywhere_ , and Sakuraba experienced the sudden dreadful feeling he had come to associate with someone close to him being hurt. Despite their almost nonexistent relationship, Sakuraba had found himself growing fond of the other man, the knowledge that they both were suffering from some sort of internal conflict becoming reassuring in the absence of more familiar surroundings.

So seeing _this_ so suddenly without any warning, Sakuraba immediately rushed forward to try and do something. Rolling Shougo onto his side so he wouldn't choke if he threw up, Sakuraba grabbed the nearest cloth and dabbed at the thankfully shallow cut on Shougo's head, placing a bit of pressure on it when it didn't show any signs of slowing it's bleeding. After a few minutes of fretful waiting, Sakuraba deemed it safe to remove the napkin, and left Shougo briefly to rinse the cloth and grab another one as well as a dish for the vomit.

Sakuraba had never cared for a drunken person before, but Takami had; he had often complained about his older brother's escapades when he was frustrated, and so the receiver had picked up a few things. Nevertheless, it was quite nerve-wracking for Sakuraba, and once he had settled Shougo in a secure position, he began to clear up the room to take his mind off of things. Shougo had most likely stumbled and hit his head on the smashed lamp; there was no saving the now blood stained porcelain, so Sakuraba transferred it all to an empty beer box while trailing one eye on the collapsed man feet away from him.

He kept cleaning for over an hour, taking care of the dishes after the beer cans and then wiping up the spilled liquid near the shrine, as well as dabbing at the new blood stain on the carpet. Sakuraba had just stood the picture of a young blonde man back up on the shrine when Shougo's waking groan drew his attention. Sakuraba hurried over and helped his host sit up, taking the now dry cloth from him before it could be forgotten on the floor. When he returned, Shougo was staring at his hands; a now familiar faraway look in his eyes, and Sakuraba bit his lip as he waited for the man to say something.

Instead of speaking, Shougo ignored the receiver and cradled his head in his hands. Sakuraba sat down a few feet away, momentarily wondered what to do, and then started talking.

"I wasn't in the Jukai to kill myself y'know." Shougo flinched minutely, but didn't tell Sakuraba to shut up, so he continued. "I was there to find my teammate. He broke his GPS, so we were worried. But when he left to train, all my insecurities came to the forefront of my mind. 'I'm not good enough', 'I'll never catch up to him', 'If only I could measure up'. So I ran after him; I ran until I was hopelessly lost and then I passed out. I don't think I'll ever be good enough to catch him. But I'm going to try anyways; I'll work towards him until I can't anymore. And you remind me a lot of my friend, Murata-san."

Sakuraba could see his teeth clench, but kept on going. "You're both pretty quiet, and you look similar. I've seen you keep it together around me, so you're strong like he is too. And I know you aren't him, but I was really worried about you when I saw you drunk to the point of unconsciousness and bleeding out on the floor. I've started thinking of you as a friend, Murata-san. I know you've got stuff going on and it's none of my business, but if you-if you need someone to talk to, you can come to me. Or at least wait until I've gone home to get piss drunk, if only so that I don't freak out."

Shougo stared at him, tired and out of it but visibly surprised at what Sakuraba had said. In his daze, Sakuraba ushered him up and to his bedroom, making him lie down on his side so Sakuraba could keep an easier watch over him. Just before Shougo fell asleep, he seemed to regain a bit of feeling in his expression as he fixed his eyes onto Sakuraba.

"Thank you."

vvv

The next day Shougo had a horrible hang over and an even worse headache than normal because of his head injury, but Sakuraba was relieved to see that he didn't have a concussion. As soon as he had puked his guts out, Shougo had barged over to the fridge and had taken all the rest of his alcohol to his neighbor, and then proceeded to sit down at his shrine again. Sakuraba occupied himself with one of the few books Shougo owned, and it was only after several hours of reading that Shougo came up to him again.

"Can I talk to you?"

Of course Sakuraba agreed, and they settled down at the kotatsu with a pot of tea to keep them company while Shougo tried to figure out how to begin.

"I left school after I received my shoulder injury, as I'm sure you've deduced." Shougo started, not quite meeting Sakuraba's eyes. "My parents supported me living alone, but the one I kept in contact with the most was my older brother. Juuzou-nii was the vice-head of a gang, The Front of Armament's fourth generation. He had retired to work in Tokyo at the start of my third year of middle school. It was him who formally introduced me to Kousei-san, the fifth generation boss, after my injury had healed. I joined the Armament as a prospect during it's fifth generation." Sakuraba was very surprised that Shougo was a gang member; he looked the part, sort of, but weren't gang members supposed to be angry and belligerent like Zokugaku? "When Te-Tesshou-aniki became the 6th boss, he took me under his wing. He was my role model, my idol, the man I wanted to serve under and emulate… and then he got hit by a car. I was out riding with him and that was the last I saw of him alive."

Sakuraba lowered his head in the ensuing silence, until Shougo has collected himself. "I left Toarushi because I couldn't handle being there. I kept having nightmares and quickly became depressed. I- every night since I've sat at that shrine and drank." Shougo paused to swallow thickly, and then lowered his upper body in a deep bow. "Thank you for your words, Sakuraba-san. I think they've done me more good than anything I've been doing on my own. I'm eternally grateful."

Sakuraba was quick to school his shocked expression into one of outright embarrassment. "No, no, I didn't really do anything, Murata-san. I was just really worried about you-"

"Even so, you did me a great favour, even if it was only letting me talk to you. Thank you." Shougo raised his head and smiled at the blonde for the first time since they'd met. "And please, call me Shougo. I think it's only fair." Sakuraba only now noticed the change in the other's voice; where before it had been monotonous, now the blonde could practically hear every emotion Shougo was feeling, and so Sakuraba smiled back.

"Then call me Haruto."

vvv

The week following that conversation was far easier on both of them than the previous one had been. Though both of them spoke often about their respective problems, neither offered the other any advice and neither progressed much towards resolution. They were just glad to have someone else to talk to about what was bothering them, someone who would just listen*.

Sakuraba began to regain most of his movement a couple of days later; all of his injuries had scabbed over and his bruises were turning yellow. Shougo had determined that his concussion had passed, having suffered from a few in the past himself, and when Sakuraba asked, he agreed to let him help out around the house more. The Amefuto player was relegated to laundry and dish-washing duties, tasks which he completed with relish; he was happy that he was finally _doing_ something, never mind how menial.

When Sakuraba's perpetual tiredness disappeared, he and Shougo spent the evenings outside; Shougo had repairs to make on his bike that he had been putting off, and Sakuraba really only needed someone to sit with him. As opposed to during the day, there was not much talking when they were in the adjoined garage. Sakuraba was content to chip away at a pot of tea, idly doodling Amefuto plays on the notepad he had borrowed, and Shougo focused on his motorcycle, the accident had left several small issues which were supposed to have been addressed far earlier.

Each day that passed did so comfortably, both of the men able to relax somewhat now that they had aired their respective grievances. As the second week drew to a close, Shougo helped Sakuraba take off his bandages for the last time, and whistled lowly as he placed a layer of scar-healing lotion onto the finally fading injuries. This was the last day Sakuraba would stay at the Murata household.

"You sure do heal fast Haruto-kun. Most of my injuries take another week more to fade than yours do." The receiver laughed shakily, wincing slightly as Shougo swiped over one of the worse bruises on his back. Once Shougo had finished, he reached underneath the top cabinet and handed Sakuraba the clothes he had been wearing in the Jukai. While the blonde inspected the torn and now pinkish fabric, Shougo placed the balm back in the cupboard and turned back to address his guest.

"You can keep the clothes you're wearing now, if you want. They're actually my older brother's; he gave them to me but I've never worn them. Your training clothes aren't very suitable anymore, as I'm sure you can see." Sakuraba started to protest, but Shougo waved it off. Several minutes later, the training clothes were sitting in the trash and Shougo was jotting down his contact information onto a piece of paper, Sakuraba doing the same.

"Feel free to call, Haruto-kun, anytime. I've enjoyed your company." They exchanged papers and then set off for the nearest train station, Sakuraba getting his first good look at the neighborhood since he had arrived and Shougo checking his watch, having looked up the train schedule beforehand. They arrived with five minutes to spare, and as they waited Shougo extended his hand for the other to shake.

"I think I'll be here until the end of summer. Visit if you start to miss me." Shougo teased, stepping back as the train pulled up.

"Of course, how will I survive without you, Shougo-san?" Sakuraba waved as he boarded the train, and soon enough it departed, bringing the receiver back to Arakawa-ku and his teammates.

vvv

When Sakuraba showed up at the Amefuto practice the day after he had returned from Yokohama, dressed in his extra set of training clothes and smiling nervously, most of his teammates simply stared. His forehead gash had left no scar, but the skin visible on his arms and neck still held traces of the fall that had done him so much damage two weeks ago. He jumped three feet as Wakana and Takami, one shrieking with relief and the other ready to fret over the blonde, rushed him without a second thought. Otawara, Shogun and Shin were the next to come over, with the coach taking precedent in the greetings.

"All healed up?" Shogun demanded, his expression stern and disapproving but his tone concerned. Shin silently swept his eyes over his friend, stoic as ever, the only indication of his concern being the slight crease in his forehead.

"Yes. I'm ready to train, sir." Takami looked proud, and made sure to restrain Otawara before he injured the blonde further with a good-natured pat to the back.

vvv

"Sakuraba looks a little shaky." Shogun observed from his position next to Takami, watching said receiver stumble through another drill. Takami adjusted his glasses and glanced between his friend and the clipboard.

"It makes sense…" He said quietly. "He's been doing the same amount of training as Shin, even with his injuries and weaker body- no, now it might even be more so than Shin." The coach and captain moved to the 40 yard dash, where Takami snagged the stopwatch from Wakana for Sakuraba's run. "But… 4.92 seconds!"

"He finally got past the 5 second barrier!" Someone yelled gleefully from behind them, and Takami looked on as Sakuraba collapsed, panting and exhausted.

"The results are showing little by little." The quarterback concluded, and Shogun grinned ruefully.

"Was it worth waiting for him?" Takami smiled proudly.

"Of course."

vvv

Sakuraba entered the weight room, tired and discouraged but holding on for the bench press test to see if he had improved. Dimly, he registered that Otawara had reached 140 kg (308 lbs.) and had caught up to Shin, but it wasn't until he was set up and ready that he saw how little he had achieved.

70 kg (154 lbs.). Only half of what Shin could bench, and Takami seemed to think that it was an _accomplishment?_ Otawara kept going _on_ about defeating Kurita, but all Sakuraba could think of was Ikkyu from Shinryuji. _How am I ever going to catch up to him, let alone Shin?_ Takami tried to console him, but it wasn't what he wanted to hear.

He really should have stopped talking, but all his insecurities came to the forefront of his mind at that moment. _Led by their ace, Sakuraba Haruto-_ Ace? He was no ace, not with scores like these, not with how hard he worked and how little he had accomplished! Takami just made it worse, interrupting his self loathsome rambles to tell him not to pay attention to the media, but Sakuraba wouldn't listen.

He had tried to live up to everyone's expectations, he had worked himself until he was sick, he fell down and picked himself up so many times in order to try and catch up to _genius,_ but he had never even gotten close!

"I should never have joined up just because I was tall!" Sakuraba told himself, all but oblivious to Takami standing beside him. "There's no need for a weak person like me! I wasted these past 5 years, they were all meaningless!"

SLAM!

Takami _towered_ over him, his fist raised aloft from where it had collided with Sakuraba's cheek. The receiver felt his throbbing face, shocked at his normally calm friend's show of violence, and stunned into silence. Takami had a horrible expression on his face, half anguished and half rage, and he was _shaking_ with all the anger flooding through him.

"How-How dare you say that." Sakuraba stared up at his captain, still cradling his cheek and still sprawled on the floor. "These past 5 years… do you _know_ how _much_ I've…" Takami lowered his fist; his expression smoothing to one that was only pained. "…I'm sorry. I apologize for hitting you." The quarterback began to leave the room, everyone on the team watching him go. "I'm a failure as an upperclassman. I'll be back after I cool down."

Murmurs spread through the room at the unexpected outburst, not many having heard what Sakuraba had said to the older teen. The receiver himself stared at nothing for almost a full minute before getting up and leaving the room, muttering something to Wakana in passing.

Sakuraba eventually settled on a concreted divider outside the field. Now that he had cooled down, he realized what he had said, and needless to say he had never felt worse in his life. Takami had only been trying to help, and how did he repay him?

Unfortunately, Sakuraba's musing was cut off when a black BMW rolled up, and he was suddenly pulled inside. It was Ito, and it was quickly apparent that he was quite irked about Sakuraba skipping work this past month, no matter if he was injured for half that time. The car sped away faster than Sakuraba had expected, and it only made it feel like more of a kidnapping when Ito's bodyguard muffled Sakuraba's startled scream with his hand.

Several minutes later they were stuck in traffic on their way back to Shibuya, and Ito was dabbing none too gently at his swollen cheek with a cotton swab. He was talking all the while, something about how he should be thanking him for getting him out of training, but Sakuraba wasn't listening.

_"Tell me the truth. If I had been there, could we have won a little more easily?" Shin paused on his walk out of the hospital room._

_"No. Nothing would have changed."_

The throbbing in Sakuraba's cheek only worsened. God, he should have just stayed in Yokohama, he should have never come back to Oujou in the first place. He stared out the window, at least _now_ he wouldn't bring the team down…

"-t's this? A wristband? 'Christmas'… what?" Sakuraba jerked his gaze towards his boss, suddenly remembering the wristband Torakichi had given him after he was discharged from the hospital.

_"It's a touch football wristband!" The wheel chair bound boy said proudly, handing it to Sakuraba. "Since I can't use it anymore, I want you to take it to the finals!"_

So focused on the memory, Sakuraba was unable to stop Ito from throwing it in the bag of trash, but he frantically rescued it. He stared at the messages, a little obscured by the new stains but still as legible as ever, and tuned Ito out.

_"Alright, I'll take it to the Christmas bowl after we win, I promise!"_

So out of it that he was, Sakuraba barely noticed it was raining as he jumped out of the car, running off of the road and back into the streets before Ito could stop him. He ran, much like how he had run after Shin at the beginning of the summer, but unlike that time he didn't entirely know what he was looking for. After an hour of running in the rain, drenched from water and sweat and stumbling along, he made it back to Oujou. He stood for a minute, scanning, and soon he saw him; Shin was running even in this weather, but he hadn't noticed him. Sakuraba moved towards his friend and spoke loudly over the downpour, only getting louder when Shin stopped running.

"Why? Why are you always working so hard? How is a normal person supposed to compete with a genius that works as much as you do?" Sakuraba gasped, trying to catch his breath, and Shin didn't respond. "I can't give up easily like Unsui. I'm not a good enough person to accept the fact that I have no talent at the age of 17." Shin stayed silent, and, exhausted, Sakuraba fell to his knees. "I want to win! Against _you_!"

Sakuraba felt himself starting to cry, but he couldn't care less. He wanted Shin to acknowledge him, to _look at him;_ didn't he see that he was here? "I just can't give up, I still want to be top class! JUST WHAT IS A MAN WHO WAS BORN ORDINARY SUPPOSED TO DO!?"

vvv

Three days later, after the Oujou Silver Knights had come back to reprimand their underclassmen, Sakuraba and Takami still hadn't spoken. The blonde felt like trash; he had continued training, but the damage had been done, and now he felt he was even less worthy of any praise he had ever acquired.

It was during a lull in the night, when Shogun and Otawara were restraining Ikari that Sakuraba went out into the hallway to get a drink from the vending machine. He was about to leave to go back to the weight room, when he heard Shogun mention his name.

"Sakuraba has finally become a real athlete."

Initially Sakuraba stopped, if only to scoff, frustrated. _Real_ athletes didn't goad their team captains with self-loathing garbage into punching them. But then Takami began speaking, and Sakuraba paused again to listen.

"If it wasn't for Sakuraba and all the others giving me strength, I would never have been a first string player." _What?_ Takami briefly told Ikari about his leg injury, and that even though he was an old fashioned quarterback who couldn't run, it had always been his dream to be on Oujou's team. "After I was put on the first string, I kept hearing those same words. 'Even though he's relatively faultless, he's a second rate quarterback who doesn't stand out.' But this year, my final chance has come."

"Because Sakuraba has improved bit by bit, and has taken the starting receiver position. I am an average player who's just a bit taller than normal. I can't avoid the opponent's tackles or make a touchdown by myself. By myself, I can't beat anybody. So I kept on waiting for a partner who could compliment my height."

_"I wasted these past 5 years!"_

_"Do you_ **_know_ ** _how_ **_much_ ** _I've…"_

"For the partner named Sakuraba Haruto. Who would enable me to fight on the level of top class players, I waited for 6 years."

Sakuraba sat there crying long after Takami had fallen silent.

vvv

The Oujou White Knights had returned to Mt. Fuji, thankfully closer to Asagizuka* as opposed to the 'suicide forest' this time around. Despite his tired limbs, Sakuraba managed to overtake the majority of his fellows to come up beside Takami.

"Takami-san." The captain looked surprised that Sakuraba had approached him, but nodded for him to continue. "Yesterday, I contacted the Jari Productions office and resigned."

Takami gaped at his, and Sakuraba pulled ahead, determined to finish before all others. He and Takami were the first ones there, and as they stared out from the highest point in Japan, Sakuraba felt an enormous weight settle itself down onto his shoulders. _Now,_ he thought, _I cannot lose. Now I have to propel Takami-san to the top, he'll do the same with me, and we'll both support the rest of the team in turn. But…_

Takami passed a football over to him, and smirked triumphantly. "That ball you just caught is the highest pass in Japan. Our average height is 1.90 m (6'2"). Not even Ikkyu can stop this super high pass. Let's beat them together, the top class geniuses!"

_But can I really do it as I am now?_

vvv

The final week of summer passed in a blur for Sakuraba; the only thing on his mind was training and getting ready for the autumn tournament. His new resolve seemed to seep into the minds of all of his teammates, and soon Shogun was practically _forcing_ breaks on them so that they didn't overwork themselves and collapse. It was the best period of time Sakuraba had ever experienced for his training; with the amount of freedom he had gained from quitting Jari Productions, he now dedicated all his spare time to bettering himself.

But even as he ran and tackled and threw his heart into his passes, he couldn't help but find that something was eating away at the back of his mind, he was forgetting something… something was missing. It was as if there was still some small, superficial block that he had to get past in order to fully dedicate himself, but it wasn't until he was going through his training bag that he remembered.

He stared at the piece of paper in his hands and felt like a goddamn idiot. How had he completely forgotten to call Shougo back after all the other man had done for him? With that in mind, Sakuraba immediately called Takami and asked to be let off of training for the day to go visit family; he was still unsure whether or not he should reveal his friendship with a gangster to his worry-prone captain.

Then after an hour spent getting ready, Sakuraba found himself on a train heading to Yokohama, fully intending to visit with his friend after the near three weeks of silence. He hoped that Shougo had been able to accept Kawachi-san's* death during the time they were out of contact, but knew that such things couldn't just be overcome that easily. It was likely that Shougo would have a long road ahead of him when it came to his late boss.

Sakuraba was also hoping that Shougo could help him figure out what this last piece of the puzzle was. During his stay, the gang member had proven to be remarkably intelligent when it came to such things, and Sakuraba could really use the friendly advice.

And who knows, maybe Sakuraba could finally start to repay Shougo for his stay by giving the other man some advice as well?

It was because of this train of thought that Sakuraba failed to realize that he had not called Shougo beforehand to make sure that he would indeed be home, and so he found himself sitting on a bench opposite the apartment complex. While not mad per say, Sakuraba was definitely irritated, though more so at his own stupidity that for any fault of Shougo's.

All of Sakuraba's annoyance left him however, when he caught sight of a silhouette approaching from the direction of the station. He was positive that it was Shougo, but the man looked different from a few weeks ago. As he came closer, Sakuraba saw that he had gelled his hair back into a pompadour-esque hairstyle, and instead of the standard t-shirt and sweats Sakuraba had grown used to, he was dressed in a pair of jeans and a leather jacket. Now that Shougo had shown up like this, Sakuraba could see how the other was a member of a gang (though he still didn't look like a typical bosozoku*).

"Haruto-kun?" Shougo sounded surprised, but happy to see him, and stopped just to the left of the receiver. "What are you doing here?"

"Couldn't live without my dear savior." Sakuraba grinned cheekily up at the man and received a rough chuckle in reply. "Do you want me to grab something, Shougo-san?" Shougo was carrying a bag of rice in one hand and three grocery bags in the other.

"Please."

The two eventually got everything settled, Sakuraba finding it rather easy to remember the placement of most of the food. As the blonde put things in their place, Shougo started a pot of tea and lit the incense on the shrine, spending a minute next to it before joining Sakuraba in the kitchen again. Within minutes the pair was at the kotatsu, and Shougo picked up the conversation again without missing a beat.

"What have you been up to? Training I suppose?" Sakuraba nodded and poured himself a cup of tea.

"Yes. There were a few snags on my way back in… but now I think I can truly do my best." Shougo smiled confidently, as if Sakuraba's words were also referring to him as well. "We went up Mt. Fuji again, by the way, though I stayed well away from the Jukai." Shougo laughed and shook his head.

"Did you at least have a GPS this time?" Sakuraba was the one to laugh now.

"Funny. Have you been… doing fine since I left?" Shougo's gaze didn't waver for a second.

"Better than fine. I still think your words may have saved me Haruto-kun." Sakuraba blushed. "I think… that I may be ready to return to Toarushi. Return to my responsibilities. I know that I'll never be able to forget Tesshou-aniki, nor do I want to, but I believe I have finally accepted his death." Shougo fiddled with his tea cup absentmindedly. "Are you still going to try and catch up with your friend?"

Sakuraba frowned in thought, sitting back and gazing up at the ceiling. "I am. I quit my job and have been dedicating all I can to getting stronger." Shougo nodded, satisfied, but Sakuraba went on. "But there should be something else I can do, some final change that will solidify my determination, but I can't think of what it could be. That's part of the reason I came today; I was hoping for some advice."

Shougo scrutinized him for a minute. "You don't think a mental resolve is enough." When Sakuraba agreed, Shougo let out a loud laugh. "I know _exactly_ what to do, Haruto-kun. Wait here."

Sakuraba watched as his friend exited the room swiftly, an amused expression painting his face as he did. The gang member quickly returned, a black box in one hand and a plastic sheet in the other, and opened the box with a grin to show Sakuraba what he had in mind.

"That's… that's it." Sakuraba lifted the electric shaver from the confines of it's packaging and ran a hand through his- admittedly- quite long hair. "I can't believe I didn't think of this." Shougo laid the plastic down and gestured for Sakuraba to sit down, snatching the shaver from him and chuckling.

"For some reason, it's _extremely_ common for delinquents in Toarushi to have outrageous haircuts. Tesshou-aniki had more hairstyles in six months than I've had in 6 years, and you should see what some of the guys at Suzuran think is _cool_." Sakuraba laughed, and to his credit only tensed minutely as the shaver was switched on, and then Shougo tipped his head forward and got to work.

By the end of the impromptu haircut, Sakuraba's head felt slightly lighter and very odd; he would have to get used to feeling a breeze, though that was a small price to pay. It was nice to not have to push any bangs out of his face, and the absence of ever tickling strands down the back of his neck was probably making Sakuraba a little _too_ happy. Shougo surveyed his handiwork as he cleared away the mess, a smug look on his face as Sakuraba kept making appreciative comments under his breath.

"This is so different. I've never had my hair like this before." Sakuraba told Shougo as he sat back down.

"It suits you." The pair sat in a comfortable silence for a while, before Shougo spoke once again. "Hey, Haruto-kun, I have something to ask of you." Sakuraba ceased feeling the sides of his head and gave Shougo his full attention.

"Would you join the Front of Armament?"

vvv

Hopefully the second chapter will come to me. Hope anyone who reads this enjoys it!

***the Jukai or suicide forest, is a part of the forest around Mt. Fuji that is famous for having several fresh skeletons turn up in it each year**

***Japanese futons, as opposed to American futons (and there is a difference), are actually rather good for your back**

***Yokohama is to the Southwest of Tokyo and to the Southeast of Mt. Fuji**

***don't know if the healing timeframe is accurate or not**

***Setagaya-ku is a prefecture in Tokyo, and Sakuraba lies about being there so Takami doesn't worry as much**

***family shrines for departed loved ones are common in Japan**

***for this fic, Toarushi is located in roughly the same area as Toride (Toarutshi is a fictional town btw)**

***Arakawa-ku is a prefecture in Tokyo, and my headcanon for where Oujou is located**

***Asahigaoka is to the Northeast of Mt. Fuji, whereas the Jukai is to the Northwest**

***Shougo and Sakuraba don't try and give advice or the like because sometimes you just need someone to listen and not say a word**

***Asagizuka is where the White Knights may have started their hike up Mt. Fuji**

***Kawachi-san is Tesshou-aniki. His full name is Kawachi Tesshou, sometimes known as Tetsu**

***a bosozoku is a biker delinquent who stereotypically wears a kind of jumpsuit**


	2. A Strange Proposition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> P.S. this is an older story than the others that will follow.

Disclaimer: I don’t own anything.

WARNING: SPOILERS ARE PROBABLY AHEAD.

                Sakuraba stared at Shougo, his mouth hanging open and his eyes as big as saucers. A testament to his bravado (or was it confidence?), Shougo merely waited with a slight, amused smile on his face for Sakuraba to collect himself enough to answer.

                The receiver’s mind was whirring, a hundred different thoughts tumbling over one another faster than he could process; what stuck out was the overwhelming feeling of absolute disbelief. Even though Sakuraba considered himself and the other man friends, the pair had still only known each other for one summer, and even saying that was pushing it. Moreover, Sakuraba had first been acquainted with Shougo through _semi-self-inflicted_ injuries _._ He was an American Football player, not once had he _ever_ been thought of as or considered himself a delinquent type. That was Ikari, that was Hiruma, that was _Kongo Agon_ , hell, even _Shin_ would make a better thug...

...and yet Shougo had asked _him_ to be a part of this group.

                Had the man’s grief somehow altered his thought processing abilities? Sakuraba just couldn’t make it make sense, and seeing Shougo waiting patiently for him to come back to himself certainly was not making it any easier to do so.

                What did he even _know_ about Shougo’s gang in the first place? He knew that it was a generational thing, possibly even a family deal, as Shougo had mentioned an involved older brother at some point. He knew that it had had six generations, and they had just lost their leader. _None of this is really helping me._ They rode motorcycles, Shougo’s interests made that much apparent, and if said bike enthusiast was anything to go by, they sure as hell didn’t dress like the stereotypical bosozoku. _Who cares about their fashion choices?_ They were based in Toarushi, or so Sakuraba assumed, which wouldn’t be such a bad trip if he managed to get his class one... _Why am I thinking like I’ve already joined?_ As Sakuraba was mildly flipping the fuck out, Shougo deemed it the right time to interject.

                “Well, I _should_ say that I would like to recommend you to the next boss for the Outside Advisor* position in the 7 th generation.” Sakuraba ceased his inner turmoil for the moment and blinked confusedly at Shougo.

                “Recommend? Outside Advisor?”

                “Yes, since it is ultimately the boss’s decision on who enters the Armament or not, and in what capacity. An outside advisor is a person both affiliated and not affiliated with us. The Armament hasn’t had one since its second generation, but they are very important.” Shougo glanced briefly at his shrine, but what for Sakuraba wasn’t about to guess. “They offer sound and objective advice on various situations, and are supposed to keep an eye on the group’s activities from an external perspective. They stay mostly out of sight in times of conflict, only appearing when full force is needed, and since you live in Tokyo, you’ll have even less of a presence, though for you that is probably a good thing. They also have the authority to object and even veto decisions made by the leaders. I value your words Haruto-kun, make no mistake of that.” Sakuraba looked away, his eyebrows drawn together and once again thinking hard.

                _So I wou..._ Sakuraba stopped himself before he could dig any holes; instead he focused his thoughts on Shougo. _So far, he’s been more respectful of me than half the people I know._ A biased opinion to be sure, as over half the people he knew were either fangirls or people in the modeling business, but nonetheless a true statement. _If I hadn’t said anything to him after he hit his head, I probably wouldn’t be in this situation. The onus is on me this time to sort everything out._

                “I know I... knocked some sense into you, so to speak, but still, we’ve barely known each other two months. Why on Earth would you ask _me_ this?”

                Shougo thought over his question. “The Armament has been able to handle itself against impossible odds for years; the first generation was attacked continuously by Hyakki at their conception*, the fourth generation came to be after the third was all but destroyed by a single man*, and right now the Armament is holding together against Hades Owl even while it mourns the loss of its sixth head.” Shougo sighed and let his head fall back onto his shoulders, as if the ceiling might give him guidance. “They were able to do so, not because of numbers or intelligence or fighting prowess, but because their comrades were their friends first. Because they trusted and respected and listened to one another. Whoever becomes the head of the seventh generation is going to need good people supporting them from beside them; the Armament doesn’t need _nameless subordinates._ ”

                “I think you’re a good person Haruto-kun, you’re smart and despite your insecurities you continue to try and improve your skills. You have a level head and make decisions without letting your preconceptions clog your judgement. I know you would get along well with everyone in the Armament, your dedication to your Amefuto teammates only makes me surer of my asking. However, my opinion of you will not suffer should you refuse, so do not feel pressured or obligated to accept. It is your choice. Just remember that one does not ask another to fight for them if they would not do the same in return.” Shougo lifted the long empty teapot into his hands and strode back into the kitchen to give Sakuraba some time alone.

                The receiver sat quietly, mulling over the praise in his mind. He had never been told anything like that before. He had been brought to the Amefuto team because of his height, he had caught Ito’s attention for his looks, his fans loved him for how he was portrayed through Jari Productions. Yet here was Shougo, a delinquent, a gang member, someone he had barely known a summer and hadn’t seen in weeks. Here was Shougo telling him that he respected him, not for his physical attributes or his minor media success, but for a few dozen words he had blurted out on a whim when the other man had scared him unexpectedly. Here was Shougo telling him that he was willing to trust Sakuraba with a position that supervised the people that the other cared about, all because of his words. All this on a few sentences spoken by a stressed and scared high school football player to a drunken gangster wallowing in his own grief and regret. About ten minutes passed in silence before Shougo poked his head back into the room.

                “Hey, Haruto-kun, do you want something to eat? I just found some instant mix-”

                “I’ll join!”

                Shougo’s eyes widened and Sakuraba felt a red flush start to creep steadily up his neck. “I’ll join.” He repeated, his confidence boosted by the reiteration. “I’ll join. I... I want to live up to your expectations of me.”

                Shougo’s grin nearly outshone the sun, and he stepped fully into the room to extend his hand; he knew Sakuraba wasn’t familiar with proper formality in this regard*, but he would show him later. Sakuraba didn’t hesitate before reciprocating the handshake, feeling a weight settle down onto his shoulders that was noticeably different from the weight he had felt after patching things up with Takami, but the feeling was not unpleasant. Actually, it was a terribly easy sensation to enjoy. Drawing away, Shougo gestured to the kitchen with the ramen packet he had brought into the room with him.

                “Forget _instant_ ramen. We’re going out to eat right now.”

Vvv

                _They were drawing curious looks from the few other patrons of the roadside ramen stand, but neither of them cared to notice. Sakuraba stood next to Shougo’s stool, awaiting instructions on how he should go about bowing properly to people in the Armament and the like from now on*._

_“Keep your shins straight up, and bend your knees back 45 degrees. Put your hands on your knees and bow from that position using common sense. Deeper for a more formal, respectful greeting, like you would if you were to make a request or if you were meeting the boss of another team, bowing of the head for a more informal greeting, like if it’s your senior who you’re familiar with. If the person is younger than you, or of a lower position, you should bow after they have, and when making an introduction its good manners to speak only after straightening.”Sakuraba tested the position out and felt a little ridiculous, but then, this was probably how foreigners felt the first time they tried bowing at all. Shougo reached over and corrected his posture in a few areas, moving him twice to demonstrate the examples he had outlined._

_Finally after a couple of tries he was deemed an acceptable beginner. When Sakuraba didn’t sit back down, Shougo gave him an inquiring expression over his soup._

_“There’s a_ right _way to join the Armament, isn’t there?” The blonde asked. Shougo nodded but shrugged as well._

 _“Not so much the Armament as it is being asked to join a team by an existing member. Anyone can_ ask _to join, but not everyone_ gets _asked.” Sakuraba hummed thoughtfully._

_“Then would you tell me what to say?” Ignoring Shougo’s startled look, Sakuraba tried out the unfamiliar bow again, this time letting his head drop down so that the gesture was formal but not overdoing it. Shougo floundered for a moment before he recovered. The stand had cleared of people, and not even the chef was there to watch the small ceremony being carried out*._

_“Repeat after me; I, Sakuraba Haruto, accept your invitation to join the seventh generation of The Front of Armament as it’s Outside Advisor, and barring that, as a regular officer.” Sakuraba said the words, only stumbling once, and when he straightened up he found a can of Shochu being offered to him. He really should refuse it, he was underage and how had Shougo even procured the drink in the first place? But for once Sakuraba didn’t trust his instincts; and wouldn’t the old him be surprised that the world hadn’t ended at all._

Vvv

                “Hahaha! You cut off all your hair!” Otawara ran his hand over Sakuraba’s new buzz cut as if it was the most interesting thing in the world. After returning from Yokohama, the receiver had rejoined the team for evening training so that he could make up what he had missed that morning, but he had been ambushed by the lineman before he could even start.

                Takami grinned, amused, standing off to the side next to Shin. “You _do_ look completely different. I almost didn’t recognize you.”

                “Different?” Shin asked, eyes quite obviously not looking at Sakuraba’s head but instead at his torso. _Oh yeah,_ Sakuraba thought wryly. _Shin recognizes people from their bodies, not their faces*._

                Sakuraba finally felt as if he were completely ready for whatever the Autumn Tournament had to throw at him, he had made all the lifestyle changes he was able to at this point, including a few that he had never even conceived as possible. He was still slightly nervous about now being involved with a gang, it was hard to get over a life time’s worth of bad press by meeting one nice man, but Shougo had done his best to reassure him before he had left on the train.

                _“Just because you’ve done a formal agreement doesn’t make it permanent, or a sure thing.” He had said, keeping in mind both Sakuraba’s tendency to over think things and the variable of the new TFOA boss. “You can back out whenever you want, I won’t think any less of you. Oh, also, when is your first game in this tournament? I don’t want to be calling you at a bad time.”_

It was more than Sakuraba had expected, given the scenario, but he was quite grateful to the other man for his understanding and patience with him.

                “Takami-san.” Sakuraba was set on working his utmost hardest; he was not going to let down any of the people who were counting on him. “Outside of the normal training, I want you and I to do some special pass training!”

                He hadn’t met any of the Armament besides Shougo yet, but if he was going to get stronger for Amefuto, he figured that he could get stronger for them at the same time.

Vvv

                Shougo knew where he would find the grave. He had known since the funeral, though only the sixth generation members had been present for it. He hadn’t yet _seen_ it; when it had happened, the death had been far too fresh in his mind, hounding him at all hours of the day, and he hadn’t been able to bring himself to face the evidence that Tesshou-aniki was gone.

                Why hadn’t he warned Tesshou-aniki of the car sooner? How could he have passed out and left his boss to die alone? If only he had reacted faster. If only he had been the one leading. If only... Those thoughts plagued him unrelentingly, and after a few days he had left Toarushi to try and escape it; to escape the pitying looks, the weight of the responsibility Tesshou-aniki had bestowed upon him before he had passed, but most of all to get away from his own expectations of himself.

                When he was with his comrades, his friends, he always tried to hold himself higher, to give _them_ someone to lean on or talk to; he wanted to ease their worries and keep them safe. It’s why he had reacted so strongly to those thugs from Kyouya beating up Yuutarou, it’s why he had decided to bring Haru into the Armament, and it’s why he was so set on having Takumi as a comrade. Everything he was, he had become that way because of the people around him, and he gave so much for them that he almost had nothing left for himself. For years, he had been wearing himself thin, trying to live up to his own high standards and making sure that those he cared for didn’t realize what he was giving to them. Then, Tesshou-aniki had come into the picture and had taken him under his wing. Tesshou-aniki had been the only one to see what he was doing, and then he outright returned the sentiment; the memory of his boss telling the leader of Kyouya that Shougo was like a little brother to him was one of the few things that made him truly happy.

                So when Tesshou-aniki had died, Shougo had given up; something vital to his existence had been taken away from him, and he had shut down in response, unable to cope. It hadn’t been until Sakuraba had bared to him his own insecurities that Shougo had woken up and started back down his proper path. Now he had returned to his home, returned to talk to this man he so admired and loved and finally settle things inside himself once and for all.

                But first he had to fix things with Kiyohiro.

                The former vicehead and interim boss looked shocked to see him there; not altogether surprising considering the circumstances. Shougo had learnt of Takumi’s actions in the conflict with Hades Owl, and the strain that Kiyohiro had endured before Takumi had intervened could clearly be seen on the older man’s face. Kiyohiro hastily removed himself from his seat at the grave and stood to greet his junior, tall and proud as the day Shougo had first met him.

                “Are you ready to wear the skull again? All rested up?” Kiyohiro sounded hopeful but his words were laced with trepidation, as if he were also preparing for Shougo to resign from the Armament. Shougo immediately went into a deep, formal bow, eyes on the other man’s shoes, and answered.

                “Yes, I came back last night.” Shougo lowered his head further. “I... apologize, for making you worry.”

                WHAM!

                The force behind Kiyohiro’s fist was a welcome and familiar pain, one that told Shougo just how pissed off and relieved Kiyohiro was feeling at the moment.

                “Shougo!” The younger quickly resumed his bowed position before the man, ready to be reamed out effectively, but was surprised by what Kiyohiro said next.

                “Do you even _know_ how worried we were you asshole?! Representing the Armament and socking you one is my final duty as acting head of the sixth generation!” When Kiyohiro had paused for too long, Shougo looked up only to see the other smirking at him. “You’re the head of the seventh generation, Shougo! We’ve been waiting for you.”

                Shougo’s mind went blank. In the split second before tradition dictated that he respond, a million thoughts bombarded him; most of them doubts of his worth for the position. Then, he remembered Tesshou-aniki’s words from that time.

                _“Yo, Shougo! You’re training pretty hard lately, did something happen?”_

_“No... Not really...”_

_“Fuu~ well, work hard, 7 th boss!”_

_“I will... EH?”_

                Shougo met Kiyohiro’s stare, and he finally felt as if he were fulfilling at the very least Tesshou-aniki’s expectations of him. He would do his best to make sure that both his boss and Kiyohiro would not be disappointed in their choice. “I understand. I, Murata Shougo, shall fulfill my role as seventh head of The Front of Armament.”

                _“That’s a nice moon...”_

Vvv

                It was finally here, the first match of the Autumn Tournament; Oujou White Knights vs. Sankaku Punks. Sakuraba was ready, his mind was on the upcoming match, his body was eager to show its progress, and his spirit was calm as he regarded the wristband Torakichi had given him. After the Opening Ceremony, he had tracked down the boy to show him in person that he still wore it, and that he hadn’t forgotten the garment’s significance.

                _“See, see, Sakuraba_ does _look like a delinquent now!”_

                He had laughed _very_ anxiously at that, sometimes Torakichi hit the nail on the head a little _too_ accurately... perhaps Shougo had given him this haircut for more nefarious reasons than to help him out? Nevertheless, it seemed that as soon as he gave thought to him, the boy would make himself known, as evidenced by the loud cheering from the nearly empty ‘Sakuraba section’ of the stands, even before the game had begun. Sakuraba waved to the boy, but a few seats over someone caught his eye. _No..._

                “Hahaha! Now that you’ve cut your hair, you’re only popular with the kids!” Otawara, blunt as ever, but Sakuraba knew he didn’t mean anything bad by it. The receiver squinted at the seats behind Torakichi and friends, trying to get a better view as the boy’s arms were in the way, but when Torakichi finally calmed down Sakuraba’s jaw dropped.

                What the _hell_ was Shougo doing here? Sitting quite calmly too, in all his leather clad, scarred up, regent haired glory, speaking to a man beside him as if he weren’t a gangster come to see his possible future comrade’s Amefuto match completely out of the blue. The other man also wore a TFOA emblazoned jacket, but he wasn’t as menacing; he had a slim build, no visible scars, and chin length, straight black hair. The two were otherwise engrossed, so Sakuraba swiftly turned back to the field just as Takami was making a comment about the lack of teenage fangirls.

                _Please, Kami, don’t let him notice Shougo-san..._ Sakuraba nodded nervously and sat back down on the bench. “I gave up my modeling job so suddenly, I feel sorry for my fans. But in return, I’m going to show the people who still came to see me some impressive plays.”

                Sakuraba kept his eyes locked onto Takami as the teams got into formation. When Sankaku kicked the ball, he followed its course and let nothing else distract him. The roar of the crowd faded to nothing, the glare of the sun diminished until it was negligible, and the heat of the day combined with his heavy padding was pushed deftly to the back of his mind. Sakuraba’s field of vision narrowed down to where that ball was travelling to, and when Takami picked it up and prepared to throw, he knew what he had to do.

                He saw Takami swing his arm, observed the graceful and powerful arc the ball cut into the air once it was released. To anyone else, Takami had thrown far too high, but to Sakuraba, this was _his_ playing field now. His body moved on its own, barely requiring any thought on his part in order to follow the predetermined route Takami had set for him. He was acutely aware of the opposing team’s receiver running for the ball as well, but the other _knew_ that he wouldn’t even come close.

                With all his might, Sakuraba jumped, sailing far above the reach of the other team and even his own teammates, and without heed to the sun attempting to obstruct his vision, the blonde reached out for the ball. He could hear the exclamations of shock now, the crowd’s stunned gasps as they processed what was happening, and then his fingers clasped the leather and he landed in the end zone. The play ended, and Takami came up to him amidst the ensuing cheers and knocked forearms with him, an expression of pride and exhilaration colouring his normally composed features.

                The rest of the game flew by, but Sakuraba did not feel overly emotional during any of it. He felt a serene sense of contentment wash over him, the trust he and his teammates had for one another promising a whole different level of emotion in games to come. Throughout Otawara’s near perfect blocking and Shin’s amazing tackles, the game was surely the best he had played to date, and when they won 82-0, Sakuraba found that the excitement that poured from him was one of the best sensations he could imagine.

                Once everyone had gotten changed, Shogun excused them all from the day’s training so they could rest up. Shin went off on his post game jog, Otawara dragged Ikari off to cool down, Wakana ran to the store for some snacks, and Takami accompanied Shogun back into the stadium. Normally by now Sakuraba would either join Takami for the rest of the games or he would go home to sleep, but today he waited by the entrance to the stands. Takami noticed this and called back to him.

                “Sakuraba! What are you going to do now?” Raising his hand, Sakuraba replied easily.

                “I’m going to wait for Torakichi-kun! You go on, I’ll see you tomorrow!” The captain nodded and went on his way; for about ten minutes Sakuraba was left alone, until Torakichi and his friends appeared on the sidewalk. Sakuraba waved at them and spoke to the excited kids for a few minutes, until he finally had to make an excuse so that the youngsters would leave; he didn’t want them to see Shougo after all.

                “Haruto-kun! That was a great match!” Shougo appeared from behind unexpectedly, patting him on the back as his friend trailed a few feet away. “Were you surprised to see us?”

                “Very. But in a good way.” Sakuraba switched his attention to the second man. “Who’s this?”

                “Right. This is Fujishiro Takumi. He’s a good friend of mine from middle school and the recently appointed vice head of the Armament’s seventh generation.” Sakuraba bowed a little awkwardly, it wasn’t easy getting used to the strange perspective, and he tended to be self conscious, but Takumi returned it easily. “Takumi, this is Sakuraba Haruto, the man I told you about.”

                “Pleased to meet you, Sakuraba-kun. Shougo hasn’t shut up about you.” Sakuraba laughed, thankful that the vice head seemed to be a nice person. “That last two point conversion was especially well done. You follow your routes well.”

                “Do you play, Fujishiro-san? Most people don’t know what a two point conversion is*.” Takumi grinned.

                “No, I’m not one for sports. My younger brother does though; I’ve been to a few of his games.” Glancing at Shougo, Takumi raised an eyebrow and the other man nodded in response.

                “We’ve actually come here to bring you back to Toarushi with us, Haruto-kun.” When Sakuraba asked as to the reason, Takumi chuckled slightly and gave an amused smile; he clearly indicated he wasn’t going to offer any answers as he began to walk to the nearest parking lot. Shougo and Sakuraba followed at a more sedate pace. “I want you to come to the inauguration of the 7th generation. It’s traditional for all members to be present, if they’re available.”

                “Really? You want me there?” Shougo looked at the receiver as if he had just been asked if the sky was blue. “Alright, that was stupid to ask. But won’t I have to be approved of by the next boss first?” At this, Shougo grinned widely and Sakuraba swore that the man’s pride was tangible in the air.

                “No need to worry about that. _I_ was chosen as the next head of the Armament.” Sakuraba gaped at his friend, who was now apparently going to be his boss as well.

                “Oh. Oh! Wow, congratulations Shougo-san! This must be a big honour.” Shougo’s back straightened at his words, his grin changing into a smile.

                “It is.”

Vvv

                An hour later, Sakuraba had vowed to get his Class one* for a motorcycle as soon as possible, because _wow_ , that had been such a _rush._

                Shougo had ferried him on the back of his bike, first back to his home so the receiver could change out of his training clothes and then all the way to Toarushi. Takumi had gone on ahead so that he could make sure everyone was there on time, and also in order to reign in some of their more... rambunctious members.

                Whatever the case, Sakuraba had been perched precariously on the back of a motorcycle for close to an hour, and he had loved every minute of it. It wasn’t the same thrill he got from Amefuto; nothing could quite compare to that. But it was electrifying all the same and Sakuraba couldn’t get over it.

                The harsh wind in his face, the sharp turns and the speed that seemed to almost outstrip the nearby cars. It made him forget about every pressing issue trying to intrude upon his mind. He forgot about Ito’s antics, he forgot how Takami worried about him, he forgot about tomorrow’s training and the trip to the Yakiniku place he was missing right now. He even forgot that he was heading straight to a den of the same delinquent types that flocked to Zokugaku.

                Of course, that last tidbit came flooding back to him immediately when he and Shougo pulled up to the front entrance of what looked to be an abandoned junkyard.

                Sakuraba couldn’t help it; his heart rate jumped and the ball of nerves he had temporarily put aside was roiling harder in the pit of his stomach than it ever had before. He was feeling as if he might throw up then and there in the midst of the sudden rush of anxiety, and then a hand landed on his shoulder. Shougo gave him a reassuring look that dampened his crushing fears astronomically.

                “Don’t worry, don’t put on airs and don’t piss off Akira. You’ll be fine.” Sakuraba laughed shakily; what would he have done if Shougo weren’t here? He still felt nervous, but at least now he remembered that Shougo and Takumi to a lesser extent would make sure he didn’t mess up too horribly. Giving the blonde a small push, Shougo led the way through the stacked cars towards a small, lit building beside a warehouse; Sakuraba briefly wondered about the lot’s ownership. When the pair reached the door there was a slight rattling of the doorframe before it was thrown open to reveal an intimidating man on the other side.

                “Shougo! ‘Bout time you got here!” The man practically shouted; he had black hair done up in a messy regent, a scar on his left cheek and was wearing a pair of leather overalls on top of a t-shirt. “Who’s this?”

                Sakuraba didn’t even need to ask to know what he was supposed to do this time around; the receiver bowed moderately and introduced himself. The man, as he moved back inside the building to make room for them, told Sakuraba that he was Nara Akira. Judging from appearances alone, Sakuraba had to agree with Shougo that pissing this man off was probably a bad move.

                Shougo closed the door behind them once Sakuraba had stepped over the threshold, motioning for the blonde to follow him and Akira down the hall and into the room at the very end. Inside it were eight other men, nearly all dressed in varying degrees of leather, but everyone greeted Shougo warmly when they noticed the man in the doorway. Akira sat down on Takumi’s left while Sakuraba took the right, and Shougo stayed standing where he was.

                Shougo caught everyone’s attention, the room quickly quieted as the group laid their eyes on their new leader, trepidation colouring their vision as they waited for Shougo to speak.

                “Listen...” He started, unknowingly echoing the past leaders of the Armament as he did. “No one’s going to be around to help us out anymore. The 6th generation has retired, and now it’s the seventh’s turn to leave a mark. We’re going to forge our own Armament, one that won’t lose out to its predecessors. We’re a family now; eventually we too will leave this team, but even then we will always be close as brothers.” Several approving nods surfaced amongst the gathered gang members. “Now, what do you say we have one night free of worries before we go and show the Jet Black Scorpion who exactly they’re messing with?”

                The roar that came from Shougo’s audience at that moment was deafening, and Sakuraba joined in with gusto. Everyone grabbed a drink of some sort and loudly toasted the departed sixth generation, before settling back to have a good time. Sakuraba nearly squeaked when he found himself jostled to the side, pulled over to the closest wall to sit with two others who were both grinning excitedly at him. Sakuraba waited for the inevitable recognition of his identity, but it never came.

                “So you’re the other newbie? The name’s Yamaguchi Zenjirou, nice to meet you.” The one who had brought him over greeted him fairly informally, and Sakuraba inwardly thanked Kami for being able to avoid the awkward bow for now. Zenjirou was shorter than Sakuraba, close to Shin’s height, and he wore tinted glasses and a deep purple kerchief around his neck. His hair was chin length and wavy, and was just a shade darker than Sakuraba’s own. The man next to him spoke before Sakuraba could get a word in, extending a hand for Sakuraba to shake as he smiled brightly.

                “I’m Kuwahara Nobuaki, Kuwahara that doesn’t get impure.” Kuwahara was even shorter than Zenjirou, but had a stocky build and a very close buzz cut. He wore prescription glasses as opposed to tinted ones, and grinned even as Zenjirou rolled his eyes, leading Sakuraba to believe that the quip at the end was a frequent addition.

                “Nice to meet you Kuwahara-san, Yamaguchi-san. I’m Sakuraba Haruto, I’ll be serving as the Armament’s Outside Advisor.” Kuwahara beamed at him. “You said you were new as well?”

                Kuwahara nodded firmly but it was Zenjirou who answered. “Drop the –san for me, Sakuraba. But yeah, both of us have been friends with Takumi since first year. He brought us in after he finally accepted Shougo-san’s continuous recruitment attempts last week.”

                “Un, drop the honorific for me as well.” Kuwahara insisted. “The boss trusts Takumi’s judgement so there was no problem, how did you enter Sakuraba?”

                “Shougo-san saved my life a few weeks ago. I stayed with him in Yokohama during my recovery and I guess he liked what I had to say, so he asked if I would join. At first I was really unsure, because nothing like that had ever happened to me before. It was quite the surprise.” Sakuraba said easily, glad he didn’t have to censor his experiences like he did with his teammates.

                “I know what you mean; it’s unbelievable that me and Zenjirou would ever get to wear the Armament’s skull, right?” Kuwahara looked to his friend and the blonde opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted when another stocky teen came up with an outstretched hand. Sakuraba introduced himself, confidence being boosted by the fact that no one had been at all disagreeable towards him so far. Kobayashi Ichizen, as the blonde learnt was the man’s name, had a buzz cut and glasses similar to Kuwahara, but his face was scarred and he was the only one besides Sakuraba who wasn’t wearing leather; though his suit was so garishly coloured that the leather would have been an improvement.

                “Hope these two idiots aren’t giving you a hard time.” The others protested at the statement, and Ichizen laughed in response. “How was the drive over? You came with Shougo right?”

                The next hour saw Sakuraba keeping company with Zenjirou, Kuwahara and Ichizen, and after awhile a rather... laidback man by the name of Enjou Kazumasa. None of them knew very much about Amefuto beyond that it existed, but Ichizen had some stories from his time in jail that he prattled on about for a time until Kuwahara got them on the topic of their Class ones. Both Zenjirou and Kuwahara were nearly ready to get theirs, but they vetoed Sakuraba’s plans to take a course.

                “That’ll cost you _way_ more than a few thousand yen.” Zenjirou vehemently seethed. “Do what we’re doing; take the practice test so many times that you get better at it than the instructors.* That’ll teach ‘em.” Sakuraba wasn’t about to ask, but he filed the advice away dutifully.

                “Sakuraba-kun?” Takumi tapped the receiver on the shoulder and tilted his head to the right. “Come over here for a bit? We need to talk about a few things.” Ichizen shooed Sakuraba away before getting into a heated argument with Enjou, so the blonde followed the vice head to a smaller table where a man with tinted oval glasses and a scar on his lip was waiting for them. Takumi helpfully motioned for Sakuraba to bow before they both sat down; he was beginning to see a pattern here.

                “Sakuraba-kun, this is Kim Hyongan. He knows the ins and outs of every member of the Armament. Kim, this is Sakuraba Haruto, as I’m sure Shougo had told you.” Kim nodded stoically at the nervous receiver, the corners of his mouth upturned enough to keep Sakuraba from being too on edge. Takumi took a sip of Shochu before speaking again. “Since Kim is the one you’ll be conferring with the most often, he needs to know your capabilities. Kim will be the one who keeps you updated on our internal activities while you handle external observation. He’s also the one you will report any concerns about the team to unless it’s extremely urgent; when we need advice or assistance, either Shougo or I will call you. Can I see your cell?” Sakuraba handed it to the other man, glad he was getting some clearly defined parameters for his expected duties. “Kim, you’re up.”

                The Korean man leaned forward and Sakuraba forced himself to look the other directly in the eye. “Track record of one-on-ones, any specific combat skills, any major injuries in your past.” Sakuraba felt rightly as if a light had been shone in his face, and he flushed at remembering that he was likely the only one in the room who wasn’t some form of... for lack of a better term, ‘problem child’.

                “I haven’t had any one-on-ones, and I’ve never been in a fight before. But I’m the starting receiver for my school’s Amefuto team, so I have done a lot of physical training. You can’t handle repeated tackles without being at least a little sturdy. I suffered from a cracked collarbone around five months ago.” Kim raised an eyebrow, but otherwise didn’t comment.

                “Any connections I should know about or be wary of? Any glaring enemies, or local gangs in your area? Also, times you won’t be available would be nice to know.” Sakuraba’s expression became unsure.

                “No one I can think of... unless you’ve heard of Hiruma Yoichi?” Kim shook his head and Sakuraba breathed a sigh of something similar to relief. “Oh, well, it’s better that way. I don’t have any enemies either, but Oujou is only a fifteen minute walk from Zoku to Gakuen.”

                “Their local Suzuran.”Kim told Takumi for clarification. Takumi kept fiddling with Sakuraba’s phone, but smiled lightly from his position. Sakuraba then produced a slip of paper from his pocket which he gave to Kim. Akira came over and sat down, placing his feet on the edge of the table and ignoring Kim’s irritated glare.

                “The only times I absolutely won’t be available will be during Oujou’s games, the dates and times of which are on that. Any other times should be fine, with a bit of notice if you need me to go somewhere, since I might be at school or practice. It’s going to take me a while to get my class one, let alone an actual bike, so that’s got to be kept in mind as well. I could always take the train.” Kim folded the paper and placed it in an inner pocket of his jacket, nodding thoughtfully.

                “Finally, a cooperative one. Since you’re being helpful, I have a task for you.” Takumi glanced at his friend sharply, but Kim waved the look off. “Those Zokugaku are an unpredictable bunch. I’m going to give you the number of my cousin, Daehyun, he goes there. I want you to go and let their boss know that you’re in the area.”

                Sakuraba must have looked very alarmed, because Takumi was quick to placate him. “It’s only going to be a heads up. It’s likely that a few of us will be around the area; we just don’t want Zokugaku to think anyone’s trying to take over their turf*.” Kim rattled off a series of numbers which Takumi entered into Sakuraba’s phone. “For now that’s all you have to do outside of what Shougo and I told you. If you think it’s too much too soon, I’ll tag along, so don’t sweat it Sakuraba-kun.” Takumi then handed the Amefuto player his phone back; he had input the numbers of every current Armament member into it.

                “Yeah, you’ll be fine. Zokugaku’s full of fucking idiots anyway; you won’t have to say much to convince them.” Kim glared at Akira, who only then remembered that Kim’s cousin went to Zokugaku. “Hey man, I didn’t mean nothin’...”

                Takumi laughed quietly. “So, I hope Zenjirou didn’t give you too hard of a time back there...”

                Over the following hour, Nara Akira proved to be a fairly disagreeable man; honourable yes, but he possessed an off colour sense of humour and had a hair trigger temper nearly as bad as Ikari’s. By the time the party had been on for three hours, he had managed to get reamed out by Kim, start wrestling Ichizen over the last can of Shochu, and even after that had got into it with Enjou over a stupid comment the other had made. It was laughed off, obviously commonplace, but it solidified Sakuraba’s desire to stay on the man’s good side.

                Shougo had been in one place all night, but he never neglected anyone who wanted a word or his company, which meant that the three seats beside him had been occupied by nearly everyone in attendance at some point. Sakuraba could tell that he was taking his new position very seriously. Currently the only two Sakuraba hadn’t yet been introduced to were seated there. One was a hulking man who looked a bit younger than the rest of his compatriots, and he also wasn’t wearing any leather. Instead, he was dressed in what looked like a TFOA branded school uniform, and he wore glasses and had a shaved head. The other was a taller man with a crew cut and scars along his jaw that resembled cracks. When Shougo caught Sakuraba’s eye, he waved him over; Takumi quickly motioned for him to go.

                “Been doing okay, Haruto-kun?” Shougo asked once the other had sat down; Sakuraba relaxed, more at ease with a familiar face close by. He had been stressed all night about various things, but mostly in the back of his mind he was still stewing over the dratted proper greeting protocol for this group. Shougo had gone over the basics with him while initially teaching it; formal when you made a request or met a high member of another team, informal with a senior you knew well, bow after someone younger or lower than you did, speak after straightening out when making an introduction. But despite his good intentions Sakuraba found himself awkward and hesitant in any introduction now because he didn’t fully understand the connotations of the exchange he was taking part in. If he ever met someone while he was out alone, the blonde was worried he would make a fool of himself. But for now, with Shougo there in front of him, he could follow the man’s lead and not pay any mind to it at all.

                “I’m still a little anxious, but I’ve been having a good time. Thank you for having me.” When Sakuraba finished, the hulking teen moved forward in his seat in the semblance of a bow, almost as if he were so used to performing the action that it had become second nature. Without missing a beat, Sakuraba’s gaze slid to his boss (it was strange to think of Shougo like that) only to find that Shougo was grinning and the third man was eyeing them curiously. Shougo tilted his head and raised an eyebrow, so Sakuraba turned back to the other and responded accordingly.

                “It’s nice to meet you Sakuraba-san. I am Sasaki Haru, I hope we can get along in the future.” The third man merely extended his hand for Sakuraba to shake, probably seeing the receiver’s hesitation for what it was.

                “I’m Hattori Tomoya. If you don’t understand anything, feel free to ask me.”

                “Good to meet both of you. I’ll do my best to help you out if you need it.” Sakuraba grinned and Shougo did too, leaning back in his chair comfortably.

                Once again Sakuraba was struck by how relaxed Shougo seemed to be in his environment. Despite the small brawl between Ichizen and Akira, the very close to drunken Enjou, now being responsible for all the men surrounding him and the looming threat of the Jet Black Scorpion, Shougo was acting as if none of it was worth noting at the moment. Sakuraba thought, maybe for the first time, that Shougo wasn’t _acting_ ; he was truly as laid back right now as he seemed. Shougo had confidence in his friends, the kind that Sakuraba had felt in Takami during their game, the kind that meant that Shougo held all of them in high regard just the same as they did with him. As the conversation picked back up after Sakuraba’s introduction, the receiver quietly came to the realization that he didn’t have a responsibility to keep to only the Amefuto team anymore.

                “How bad’s your anxiety, Haruto-kun?” Shougo asked, his gaze making Sakuraba sit up a bit straighter almost unconsciously. “I hope you’re comfortable enough, now that you’ve met everyone... well, except for Nanba-san, but he won’t be around often.”

                Sakuraba looked over his shoulder; Takumi and Kim were talking with Ichizen, Akira was bantering lightly with Kuwahara, Enjou was laughing uproariously at something Zenjirou had on his phone. Sakuraba turned back around to look at quiet Haru and casual Hattori and Shougo. The man who had likely saved his life, who had helped him solidify his resolve and who had brought him to this meeting because he listened to and trusted what Sakuraba had to say. Sakuraba took in all this in a glance and smiled at Shougo, the man who would be his boss until this generation retired.

                “Actually, I’m not nervous at all, Shougo-san. I’m feeling just fine.” Tilting his shoulders, Sakuraba caught a flying beer can just before it hit his ear and laughed at Enjou’s expression along with Zenjirou, quite thankful that some of his Amefuto skills were useful for other things.

                Shougo stood and clapped him on the back. “Come here for a minute, I’ve got something for you.”

                Puzzled, Sakuraba followed the gang leader outside and back to his motorcycle. While Shougo rummaged in his saddle bag, Sakuraba shivered slightly and looked up at the night sky, marvelling at the stars that seemed so much easier to see here than in Tokyo. Minutes passed, and then Shougo got his attention by passing him a black, smooth bundle. Unraveling it, Sakuraba’s eyes widened as he held up the leather jacket, which looked more like a racing jacket as opposed to Shougo’s with its large lapels and buckles. Turning it over, the skull and ‘The Front of Armament’ emblazoned on the back stood out starkly, the same as the letters ‘TFOA’ placed on each arm.

                “Just what you need, I’d say.” Sakuraba shrugged the jacket on over his shirt; it didn’t fit perfectly, but maybe that made it perfect? “Heh, it suits you. Sorry if it doesn’t fit too good, I had to guess your size using Juuzou-nii’s clothes as a reference.” Sakuraba shook his head decisively.

                “Shougo-san... it’s perfect. Thank you so much.” Shougo brightened exponentially and he ushered the receiver back inside. Takumi shot an approving look over from his table and Zenjirou teased him about becoming a professional racer without a license. When the party drew to a close several hours later, Shougo ferried him back to Tokyo and Sakuraba soaked in the feeling of a night ride and the new feeling of stiff leather on his shoulders. The receiver set Shougo up in his spare room, as he was not going to let the other man drive any more that night, and then collapsed exhausted onto his own bed.

                “Actually, I think I’m doing _better_ than fine.”

Vvv

Guys. _Guys._ Nearly 8000 words this chapter and I cut myself off.

***An outside advisor is more common in the mafia, but I’ve known a few biker gangs who have one**

***The first generation of TFOA has their story explained in _Worst Gaiden_**

***The man who all but destroyed TFOA in its 3 rd generation is Bouya Harumichi, and he did so in _Crows_**

***The proper formality for entering the gangs in _Crows x Worst_ is only touched upon, but it isn’t like the Yakuza sake ceremony, so I add-libbed a bit here**

***The way the gangsters in _Crows x Worst_ bow is something I think is restricted to gang culture, as I have not found any evidence on it via google search (please correct me if I’m wrong)**

***I took the idea for Sakuraba’s entrance ceremony from the words Shougo said when he accepted his position as the 7 th boss**

***Shin has Prosopagnosia (face blindness) to some degree, I’m sure of it**

***While in North America Amefuto is popular, many Japanese barely know anything about it.**

***Class one= go look up the Japanese license system and try to make sense of it, I dare you**

***One thing I did absorb was that a driving course in Japan is hella expensive, and a lot of people just use the practice tests to practice driving in general**

***Zokugaku is not a gang per say, but similar enough to Suzuran that I have a feeling that they would not take to kindly to having a biker gang in the vicinity without explanation**


	3. A Strange Meeting

Disclaimer: I don’t own anything.

WARNING: SPOILERS ARE DEFINITELY AHEAD.

                Sakuraba was surprised but ultimately happy to see Deimon at the White Knight’s usual Yakiniku restaurant. It had been a week since the Sankaku vs. Oujou game, a week since the 7th generation’s induction party, and Sakuraba was still trying to work out his new responsibilities, so some familiar, non-Armament faces were a welcome relief.

                All this past week, Sakuraba had received a call each night from Kim, discussing his eventual meeting with Habashira Rui and keeping him updated on the conflict with the Jet Black Scorpion; or rather, the lack of one. Takumi was still digging up dirt on them along with the KKK Demons, and it seemed that for now the other gang was staying underground. Sakuraba wasn’t complaining, and he was glad that he hadn’t heard of any violence occurring so soon after his joining up. For now he had been able to focus on Amefuto, and his class one and the situation in Toarushi had both been secondary concerns.

                For being an hour’s drive from Tokyo, Toarushi was ridiculously easy for Sakuraba to get information on, requiring only that he talk to his ‘informants’ each night, which he usually did before Kim called him. He felt a tad guilty for using his old Jari Productions contacts* for something like this, but he trusted them and he rationalized that any resources he had would be better off used than forgotten. So far his duties had been restricted to keeping an eye on the gang and offering minor advice to Kim over the phone, and he could only hope that he wouldn’t have to, for example, veto any actions that Shougo decided to take.

                Sakuraba laughed as Ikari and the Deimon delinquent trio got into some sort of meat eating contest, coercing several members of each team into joining in so they could decide who would ultimately pay the bill.  Even he was roped into it eventually, a plate full of meat shoved into his hands by Otawara and a pair of chopsticks mysteriously appearing underneath it scant seconds later. Sakuraba consented to eating the plate, if only so Otawara would stop looking at him like that, but around halfway through it, his phone began to ring incessantly. Laughing at Monta’s overdramatic pained expression, the blonde stepped out of the restaurant to answer, not noticing Shin and Deimon’s manager speaking mere feet away.

                “Hello? Kim-san?”

                “Not quite, Sakuraba-kun, its Takumi.” Sakuraba stiffened and hastily put his plate of meat down on one of the outside tables; the vice head had not yet called him up for anything. “I need you ready to be picked up in about 15 minutes. The Scorpions are on the move, and with our numbers being what they are, I want you here for whatever happens. I hope I’m not asking too much of you.”

                Sakuraba shook his head, and then blushed as he remembered that Takumi couldn’t see his movements. “No, ah, I’m not busy Fujishiro-san! Who’ll be picking me up? Do they know my address?” Moreover, if they _did_ know his address, how had it gotten around so quickly?

                “I sent Akira, he was feeling restless. Shougo gave him your address, so don’t worry about that. See you soon.” Sakuraba affirmed and then looked over to see Shin staring at him inquisitively, having finished his talk with the opposing team’s manager while Sakuraba was otherwise engrossed. To anyone else, the linebacker might have seemed to be glaring rather harshly, but Sakuraba knew him better than that.

                “I have somewhere I have to be, Shin. Could you let Shogun know that I might be late for tomorrow morning’s training?” Shin nodded seriously, his brow creasing minutely, and Sakuraba went on to reassure him. “Don’t worry; I’m going to make up anything I miss. I won’t lose to you.” The receiver grinned at Shin’s less than stoic head tilt and waved as he ran to the main road; he wasn’t about to let Akira wait around for him, so he hailed a taxi and was at his apartment with time to spare. He had only just slipped on his jacket when there was a loud hammering at the door, Akira’s dulcet tones yelling at him to get a move on or he would be left behind.

                Speeding away from Tokyo, much faster than the limit allowed, Sakuraba wondered what kind of situation he was heading towards.

Vvv

                Reluctantly, Sakuraba admitted to himself that even being present for the start of it didn’t quite tell him what he was getting into. Shougo was very coolly talking to a violent man wearing a rabbit mask, and if that wasn’t strange then Sakuraba didn’t know _what_ was considered strange anymore. Then again, during first year he had been threatened with a gun by _Hiruma Yoichi_ in order for the other to get an autographed picture from him, so he supposed that there _might_ be odder things than apparent Yakuza wannabes in animal masks.

                He and Akira had shown up at the lot only minutes before the KKK Demons had led a contingent of Jet Black Scorpions to their gate, therefore Sakuraba had only received a very brief explanation from Kim on what was going on. He had managed to glean that, eventually, there would probably be some sort of confrontation, and Kim had mentioned that Enjou and Hattori were keeping an eye on the Scorpion’s movements in preparation.

                Thankfully for Sakuraba’s fragile grasp on events, nothing else was complicated since the rabbit-masked man left fairly quickly with the rest of his group, and Sakuraba was able to greet his boss. Shougo’s presence practically smothered the blonde; much like Shin felt when the linebacker became particularly intense about a task. Unlike Shin however, Shougo was smiling (if a bit grimly), and was quick to introduce Sakuraba to their two newest members along with the infamous Nanba.

                The new officers*, Kyoumoto Shinichi and Shimada Jirou, were nice enough; Shinichi was quiet and practical while Jirou was proud and a tad confrontational. Sakuraba had nearly snorted when he had spotted Shinichi’s monstrous red perm and Jirou’s only slightly less ostentatious blonde regent, but had remained straight faced when they had both bowed fairly politely upon finding out his position in the Armament. Nanba-san, and indeed the man warranted the honorific even in thought, was tall, broad and terribly intimidating. He reminded Sakuraba a little of Banba from the Taiyo Sphinx, only with blonde hair and a facemask.

                Shougo, for his part, almost seemed to be taking some sort of joy out of introducing Sakuraba to all of these people who put him so far out of his depth. At the very least, Sakuraba hadn’t needed to think much about bowing to Nanba-san; he had done so immediately and fairly formally, especially after learning that the older man was actually the only remaining member of the Armament who had been in the 6th generation.

                Before any conversation could take hold, Takumi interrupted, one hand holding his cell phone and the other on his hip.

                “Hattori’s got them pinned. It’s time we head out.” The tension rose in the air immediately following the statement and Sakuraba’s gut dropped out, because whether or not he was ready for it, it looked like he was about to head into his first brawl. Kuwahara came up behind him and slapped him on the back in a way that was probably meant to be reassuring but only caused Sakuraba’s stomach to lurch.

                “Takumi told me this is your first fight.” The shorter man said this in a low but jovial tone of voice. “It’s cool to be nervous; I heard that that’s what makes you cautious. Just stay back for a bit until you feel ready to join in, I know that’s what I’m going to do.” With that Kuwahara joined Zenjirou on the other’s motorcycle, and Takumi beckoned Sakuraba over to him.

                The drive to where the Scorpions were hiding out took only about five minutes at the speeds everyone drove at. When they walked towards the crowd of teenagers in black, Sakuraba took a moment to make note of Shougo’s flashy entrance, as his boss had decided to signal their assault from the top of a high wall. It was only a second later that the message processed, and then all around him chaos broke loose.

                Keeping to the sidelines for now, Sakuraba gave Zenjirou’s opponent a wide berth, not wanting to get involved in the squabbling over who would be the one to take him on. He also stayed _far_ from Nanba-san, who was currently swiping through Scorpion members as if they weighed nothing at all. He also gave Haru some space, for the other had began a confrontation with the man in the lion’s mask. From what he observed, any manner of punching, kicking, body slams and weapons were being utilized, though there was a clear tendency for the Scorpions to favour weapons over bodily fighting.

                Before Sakuraba could do any more observing, a hand roughly grabbed his shoulder and spun him on the spot, and the blonde staggered from a hard punch to his left temple. Sakuraba fell to the ground in a heap as the nameless delinquent stood above him smugly, but he barely felt dazed at all.

                “Otawara hits harder than you when he pats me on the back!” Sakuraba told his opponent confidently, which wiped the smirk from his face rather quickly. With some effort, the receiver picked himself up and did what he was used to; he charged the other man and tackled him to the ground.

Vvv

                Takumi surveyed the massive fight from beside Kuwahara, making sure nothing got too far out of hand and also keeping an ear open for the sound of sirens. When his friend left to go and supervise the road, Takumi relocated so that he could stay in Shougo’s line of sight. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sakuraba get decked and he winced sympathetically. When the blonde got back up a minute later and retaliated with a tackle Takumi let out a laugh and let the Amefuto player hold his own, he would be fine for a while. Takumi’s gaze went to Shougo, and he gave his friend a thumb’s up, which the other returned immediately.

                Seconds lapsed into minutes, and before they knew it the brawl was over and done with. Nanba had ended up going against the lion masked one, Kobayashi Kenshou, and was bleeding profusely from his forehead; Takumi made a mental note to grab more first aid supplies on the way back. Zenjirou had won over Masaoka Kenichirou, the bear mask, but was in far worse shape, out of breath and with multiple scrapes and bruises on his face. When Kim revealed the knife that Zenjirou’s opponent had been armed with Takumi breathed a huge sigh of relief at the proverbially dodged bullet. Kim and Hattori had suffered little personal injury, a testament to their personalities Takumi liked to think, and had taken out two or three Scorpions each. Enjou and Akira had ended up competing over who had the most wins, but both were still fairly energetic, and even Shinichi and Jirou, despite being the newest of all gathered, had held each other’s backs and gone through a few enemies.

                Momentarily, Takumi worried over where Haru and Ichizen had gotten to, but then relaxed as they returned, citing a few runaways as the reason for their absence. As Shougo came down from his perch, Takumi made to glance over to Sakuraba’s position, not apprehensive exactly but curious at how the Amefuto player had fared, knowing the other had never been in a fight before now.

                What he saw was Sakuraba winded and sitting on the ground, but overall not too worse for wear. Two Scorpions were knocked out before him and he possessed a bleeding wound on his temple as well as a growing bruise on his chin. Sakuraba looked back at the same time and gave a thumb’s up and a shaky smile.

“That Pyonkichi* asshole must’ve escaped in the confusion!” Akira exclaimed angrily, stomping over from the other side of the lot, only stopping to pick Sakuraba up and drag him over to the rest of the group.

                “It’s fine.” Shougo said, giving a confident expression from over his shoulder. “He’ll come to us... to me!” Akira grumbled but had to agree that the rabbit was more than likely to come back for revenge. Sakuraba laughed and shifted uncomfortably, so the angry man let go of his arm and swung it over his shoulders to hold him up better.

                “Now, let’s get back!” Akira shouted, his seething expression changing into a grin. “Hey Zenjirou, considering how you stole my prey, you can treat me to some ramen!”

                “Why the hell?!”

Vvv

                _While Shougo was waiting for the rabbit masked leader of the KKK Demons, Himekawa Kei, to show up, Sakuraba sat down beside him and requested something that he had been meaning to for a while._

_“Shougo-san, could you fully explain this bowing style? I’m not exactly well versed in it and have been getting mixed signals about who I should bow to and when.” Shougo looked surprised._

_“This whole time you’ve been going off of what I told you while teaching it to you?” When Sakuraba nodded, the other man shook his head. “Well, better late than never. What do you remember from that time?”_

_“Formal when making a request and meeting a high officer from another team, informal with a senior you know well. Bow after someone younger than you, speak after straightening for an introduction.” Sakuraba held up a notepad with a grin and Shougo laughed._

_“I did leave you with a little less than you needed didn’t I?” Shougo mused. “Okay, you should also use a fairly formal style when meeting seniors you are unfamiliar with, such as Nanba-san or anyone in our previous generations. When making a request you should continue bowing until you’re dismissed, although in some situations you might decide that it would be better to look the other in the eye, such as when making a request as the Armament’s representative. An informal bow works for others besides seniors; like when you met Shinichi and Jirou earlier or when you’re meeting a lower member of another gang, or even when you meet someone you don’t know the position of. You should really only bow to your contemporaries, that being those around the same age and rank as you, when you first meet them, otherwise you don’t normally have to. And as you saw at the party, if you initiate the contact with someone like a peer or kohai, then its fine not to bow at all.” Shougo watched Sakuraba scribble for a minute. “Are you really going to study that?”_

_“Not study it, just look it over.” Sakuraba said, slipping the paper into his jacket pocket. “I didn’t learn all of this in middle school; I have some catching up to do.”_

_Sakuraba left his friend after Shougo’s laughter had gone on for a few minutes.*_

Vvv

                The next morning, after a night of patch ups, ramen stands, semi-celebratory drinking and sleeping in the junkyard’s tiny office, Sakuraba ventured out in order to catch the nine o’clock train back to Tokyo. Shougo had awoken for a brief time and offered him a drive, but Sakuraba vehemently refused; the man had gone through a stressful one-on-one with Himekawa last night, not to mention that he was probably hung over. The blonde wanted to get used to navigating Toarushi anyway, so he only asked his friend for directions.

                Going over the sequence of streets in his mind, Sakuraba walked with only a slight limp from last night; that tackle he had executed hadn’t landed quite right, and he hoped that Shin and Takami wouldn’t notice. On the up side, the rest of his injuries were minor, and did not bother him as he walked past the small shops and apartment buildings. It was around eight thirty, early for most shops on a Sunday*, but Toarushi had a big city mentality in that many stores were set up and open for the day.

It was odd for the former model, being in an area where no one recognized his face, but he supposed that it was due in part to his haircut and current... state of dress. He would admit, he was extremely grateful to the leather jacket and bandages right now, as the newly arrived autumn chill was in full force this morning, and they offered a secondary benefit; everyone near him on the sidewalk pointedly averted their gaze and picked up their pace while passing him. Sakuraba had to stifle his laughter several times; was this what it was like for Hiruma?

“Oi! Armament-san!” _So much for being avoided_ , Sakuraba thought amusedly. Turning, Sakuraba caught sight of the one who had called out to him as he was running over from the other side of the road. The man was bald, stocky and dressed in an old track suit, and he looked to be around Sakuraba’s age. He was smiling very widely at the blonde, and Sakuraba couldn’t help but offer a returning grin.

“Hey, do you know where Takumi was last night?” The man asked cheerfully, having caught up to Sakuraba quite quickly. “He said he had something to do, but he wasn’t back this morning, so I couldn’t help but be a little worried.”

“I’m sorry, can I ask who you are first?” He seemed nice enough, but Sakuraba wasn’t stupid, and he didn’t want to just hand out information to complete strangers. The other blinked confusedly for a moment before he burst out laughing.

“Ah, my bad, my bad! I’m Tsukishima Hana, call me Hana. I’m one of the other boarders at the Umehoshi boarding house where Takumi lives.” Sakuraba nodded, having heard something of the sort over the course of the inauguration party. “I mean, I’m sure Takumi’s fine and’ll be back later, but I saw that you were in the Armament like him and I just thought I’d check up on him.”

That seemed reasonable, Sakuraba conceded. The receiver extended a hand which Hana shook; the bald man inexplicably put Sakuraba completely at ease with the rambling explanation. “I’m Sakuraba Haruto, it’s nice to meet you Hana-san. The Armament had an altercation with Jet Black Scorpion last night, so Fujishiro-san spent the night with everyone at the base afterwards. Last I saw, he was just waking up.”

Hana looked incredibly relieved by his answer, something Sakuraba was glad to see. Had Hana even given the slightest of indications that he was anything but one of Takumi’s friends, Sakuraba would have high tailed it back to the junkyard in an instant. “Thanks for telling me Sakuraba, you seem to be a nice guy! Want to go grab some ramen?”

It took Sakuraba a moment to answer due to the absurdity of the question. “Sorry, Hana-san, but I’ve got a train to catch...”

Hana waved the declination away, bright smile still in place. “S’okay, s’okay. I’m sure I’ll see you around some other time Sakuraba!” Then the other man began to jog away, leaving the receiver on the sidewalk with the unexplainable feeling that he had just missed something extremely important.

Vvv

                Sakuraba filed into the stands behind Takami and Shin, making sure to keep a close eye on both Torakichi and Otawara in case either of the two were to start roughhousing. Below on the field, Deimon’s cheerleaders were already pumping up the crowd, and Sakuraba could see who he thought was Monta flailing over on the sidelines.

                This match marked the beginning of another day of high school Amefuto, and with both teams led by a strategically minded captain, this was sure to be an interesting game to watch. Unfortunately for the Dokubari Scorpions, Deimon was nearly a master of trick plays, and no matter how good Dokubari was at reading their opponent, Hiruma would always be 10 steps and 6 back up plans ahead of them.

                “What the...” Sakuraba muttered, eyes narrowing behind his binoculars. “What’s with Deimon and all the make up?” Takami shrugged in front of him.

                “I don’t know but... they look pretty pumped.” He settled down in his seat and adjusted his glasses. “Their opponent is Dokubari, over there*.”

                Sakuraba only restrained himself from rolling his eyes through sheer force of will. He knew that a few months ago he would have needed to be told which teams were playing, since he had been so distracted with Jari Productions and his depression, but didn’t Takami notice that he had mentioned the names of both schools on the way here? Not to mention that Takami had acquired today’s roster from the receiver himself, and that Sakuraba had changed a lot from a few months back.

                “Dokubari won their first game quite easily, considering their stats.” Sakuraba mentioned to his senpai, wanting to give the other something to talk about that didn’t remind him of the apparent fact that he still thought Sakuraba didn’t pay attention to the competition. “Any thoughts on why?”

                “They were probably watching the Priest’s ha... bi...” Takami trailed off; frowning at the clipboard he was holding.

                “Did you say habits?”

                “Yeah.” Takami sounded both disgruntled and approving at the same time. “They aren’t guessing their opponent’s strategies this well just by analyzing the regular season data.”

                Sakuraba hummed noncommittally, his attention focused on the start of the game. Just when he had thought that he had seen it all, there was Deimon wearing lipstick so the colour of their fingers wouldn’t give away if they were running or passing. Takami laughed derisively and shook his head.

                “Deimon is too devious. You’d be crazy to compete with Hiruma on that count.”

                _I’m amazed that Kanagushi didn’t already know about Hiruma’s... expertise._ Sakuraba thought in disbelief, watching as the Devil Bats ran rings around the Scorpions. But then he thought about what Kuwahara had told him; ‘It’s cool to be nervous, I heard that that’s what makes you cautious.’ It was obvious that Kanagushi had probably felt a little too confident about his win.

                _Bzzz. Bzzz._ Flipping his phone up, Sakuraba nearly laughed out loud at the text that Zenjirou had sent him. The other blonde had taken to texting him to vent about whatever was on his mind, and was very colourful in his use of the communication medium.

                _Those_ fuckin _Suzuran guys! They tricked us an everyone else who showed up here!!!!!!! No one from ther even came, and that fucker Amachis been in the wind for who nows how long! Dammit all, I wanted to seee that fight!_ This continued for a few more lines, with an ever increasing number of spelling errors, before it devolved into a series of angry emoticons, some of which Sakuraba had never seen before. Sakuraba sent back an appropriately consoling message, internally relieved that he had decided to skip the gathering at Goukoku shrine, and tuned back into the game just as Deimon scored another touchdown.

                The rest of the match was just as entertaining to watch, and one of the first easy wins that Deimon had gotten. When the Devil Bats won 42-0, Sakuraba clapped with the rest of their supporters and then leaned forward in his seat, as the next match was going to be Zokugaku vs. Kyoshin. Sakuraba hadn’t paid much attention to the Chameleons in any of their other games, beyond being dumbfounded when Habashira had punched out a referee, but now he was determined to take notice.

                Because eventually Sakuraba was going to have to introduce himself to that same Habashira, especially considering that just a week ago Akira had rumbled into the area at top speeds in order to retrieve him. Sakuraba was going to have to introduce himself as a member of a gang from another town, and then hope that the intimidating man would accept his living on his turf. As such, Sakuraba had looked forward to this game since he had missed them playing against the Super Eagles, and he was going to use what he observed here to hopefully help him out when paying Habashira a visit.

                Just as the first play was setting up, Takami gaped and zeroed in on the field fervently.

                “I get it now! He was the talk of the swim club two years ago...” Takami gestured to the line, where one of the linemen had taken up an extremely odd starting position. “Blazing like a comet at the junior high swim meet-” When he wasn’t stating the obvious Takami defaulted to over dramatization. “-and then vanishing all of a sudden. It’s the swimming legend, Mizumachi Kengo!”

                Sakuraba gaped along with his captain as the former swimming ace perfectly performed ‘the swim’ and took down Zokugaku’s heavyweight lineman with ease. When Habashira switched out his line for shorter guys and attempted a run with his admittedly impressive speed, Mizumachi used his longer legs to get in front of him and shut him down.

                Over the course of the following hour, the Poseidons continually blocked every attempt that Zokugaku made to score. Sakuraba couldn’t see too well without the binoculars, but he could tell that Habashira was growing increasingly desperate and downtrodden as the clock ticked away and his teammates started to give up. By the final minute, even Habashira knew that they weren’t going to recover from this, and when the clock ran out, the Poseidons had won 42-0.

                As Sakuraba trailed after Takami on the way to the change rooms, he caught sight of Habashira sitting alone on one of the benches, twirling his pocket knife in his fingers absentmindedly. Sakuraba wasn’t about to go over there right now, but before he entered the locker room he pulled out his phone and dialled the number of Kim’s cousin.

                “Hello? Am I speaking to Kim Daehyun*? Yes, this is Sakuraba from the Armament. I was calling to ask you if you could arrange a meeting with Habashira-san tomorrow afternoon...”

Vvv

                Upon returning from his fifth practice moped test the day after the White Knights defeat of the Samurais, Sakuraba began to grapple with the issue of what he should wear to his meeting with Habashira.

                It wasn’t that he thought that the older teen would care about what he wore, necessarily; it was that he was unsure if he wanted to chance being seen in his neighbourhood wearing the Armament’s skull. While it was true that the average citizen didn’t know much about the gangs outside of their local area, and he hadn’t had anyone stalking him in weeks, the possibility of the Armament’s mark being recognized was a major point of worry for Sakuraba.

                The blonde hadn’t joined Shougo’s group in order to gain ‘street cred’ as it were, or because he was drawn to the delinquent lifestyle, or even that he really wanted to be associated with a gang at all. He had joined because his friend had thought highly enough of him to ask him to. At the time, he hadn’t given much thought to the possible fallout of a starting receiver of a prestigious high school being found out to be a leader* in a semi-notorious biker gang. At the time, he had only thought about Shougo’s words, that ‘one does not ask another to fight for them if they would not do the same in return’.

                Sakuraba wanted to be proud of the position that Shougo felt he was worthy of, just the same as he was proud that he was in the Amefuto team. He showed his place as a receiver every day, wearing the wristband that Torakichi had given him nearly at all times, his prized possession.

                Shougo probably wouldn’t mind his apprehension. The man had been so accommodating to all of Sakuraba’s fears and insecurities, yet that just made Sakuraba feel ashamed that he was questioning the jacket’s place. The same shame had come over him when he had chosen to put that burger sticker on his helmet for Ito; the same shame had come again when he had realized the terrible things he had said to Takami.

                Shougo wouldn’t mind if he didn’t wear it. Shougo probably wouldn’t ever find out whether he had or not. But Sakuraba would know, and every time afterwards he would look at the jacket and remember his cowardice. He would remember that he hadn’t fought for Shougo, hadn’t returned what he had been given, that he had let his fears and the potential consequences outweigh his pride, his will, and his dedication. He would be right back where he had started.

                When he looked at the jacket now, Sakuraba was happy. He remembered Shougo’s bright grin as he accepted the garment, the other having waited all night for the right time to present it to him. He remembered Takumi smiling approvingly at him, the vice head probably having knew what Shougo was planning on doing and ready to act had Sakuraba made the wrong decision. He remembered Zenjirou’s good natured teasing, the ride back to Tokyo, his back hitting his mattress and staring up at the ceiling and saying, ‘Actually, I think I’m doing _better_ than fine.’

                Sakuraba pulled the jacket on and walked out of his apartment.

Vvv

                The walk to Zokugaku was longer from his home than it was to walk to Oujou, and the entire way there Sakuraba kept his head high, his back straight and his shoulders broad. He wasn’t going to feel ashamed of himself or his decisions any longer, and right now was a good place to start. As he drew nearer to the delinquent school, the streets began to deteriorate and the people populating the area became closer to what Sakuraba used to consider gang members to be.

                _Come to think of it..._ Sakuraba pondered as he strode towards his destination. _Those guys from Zokuto University look a lot like the guys who hang around Toarushi._ Maybe the delinquents in Tokyo changed a little faster than the ones Shougo was more familiar with.

                Those hanging around the sidewalk did not recognize him for his face, but they stared at his marked jacket and then averted their gazes, and no one accosted him as he had expected they would. Sakuraba was reminded of the feeling he had gotten back in Toarushi; both incredulity that merely his jacket were causing such a stir, but also the relief of moving uncontested through an unfamiliar area. This time, he also felt a sharp sense of foreboding deep in his chest, reminding him not to dismiss his nerves as they paved the way for caution. Sakuraba would not fare well if he allowed the buffer that his jacket provided him to cloud his judgement or his instincts.

                With minutes to spare until he was expected, Sakuraba arrived at the entrance to the graffiti covered school.  Waiting for him just inside the unhinged gates was a thin, short teenager who bore a passing resemblance to Kim in all but his shoulder length corn rows.

                Approaching the other, Sakuraba held out a hand which the other grasped firmly while tipping his hat with his second hand. He then addressed the receiver in a low, scratchy voice that did not fit with his physique.

                “Sakuraba from the Armament?”

                “Yes. You’re Kim Daehyun?” Daehyun tipped his hat again, giving off the impression that the action was either a gimmick or a habit.

                “Indeed. Follow me.” As they walked into the building, Sakuraba was glared at by Zokugaku students from every angle, and it took all his strength to keep his face blank and his steps even. Daehyun didn’t say another word as they swiftly made their way through the dilapidated hallways of the high school. Just after passing what looked to be an indoor courtyard full of smokers, the pair came up to a closed door which Daehyun knocked on sedately.

                A sharp call from inside made Daehyun open the door, with Sakuraba keeping outside so that his guide could speak to Habashira properly.

                “The Armament’s Sakuraba is here, Habashira-san.” Funnily enough, Daehyun sounded far more at ease talking to Habashira than the stony silence he had maintained on the walk over had led Sakuraba to believe.

                “Thanks Dae. Let him in, I’ll talk to him right now.” Daehyun tipped his hat to the quarterback before he exited the room, leaving the door open for Sakuraba to enter. The blonde closed the door behind him, locked eyes with Habashira, and a minute passed before the older teen burst into laughter.

                Sakuraba stood in front of the door awkwardly, his ears burning red as Habashira tried to collect himself. Habashira was sitting on a beat up couch, Megu in the armchair to his right, an empty chair to his left and a low coffee table directly in front of him. Megu was facing Sakuraba, her splintered wooden sword over her shoulders as she looked at him incredulously. _This is probably an old faculty lounge._ Sakuraba thought, at which point Habashira directed his amused gaze back at him.

                “I thought ‘Sakuraba’ sounded familiar. Who put you up to this? Wait, it was that fucker Hiruma wasn’t it?” Sakuraba didn’t answer and Habashira’s expression soured immediately. “What, he blackmail you too? Get the fuck out and tell that bastard that I can’t deal with his shit right now.”

                Megu began to rise then, probably to force Sakuraba out, so the blonde scrambled to lower himself into the first correctly executed bow that he had given since Shougo had taught him the action. Megu halted her rise out of the armchair and Habashira’s face became one of disbelief as Sakuraba shut his eyes and began to speak in earnest.

                “I was not forced here by Hiruma, Habashira-san. It is the truth that I was sent by the vice head of The Front of Armament’s seventh generation, Fujishiro Takumi, in order to introduce myself to you properly.” Several long seconds passed, and it almost seemed as if Megu was going to kick him out after all, when Habashira spoke.

                “Well, fuckin’ get on with it then.” Sakuraba straightened up to his full height, nodded once and looked the other directly in the eye.

                “Thank you*. My name is Sakuraba Haruto. I am the Outside Advisor to the seventh generation of The Front of Armament led by Murata Shougo and based in Toarushi.” Sakuraba took a deep breath and almost felt then as if he were finally getting this ‘delinquent respect’ thing right.

                “As I currently live on your turf, both myself and Fujishiro-san wanted to let you know that I was here. The Armament would like to request that you allow the occasional presence of other officers besides myself in your territory. I assure you that you and the Zoku to Gakuen students will not be bothered, and that we will _not_ be attempting to invade or maintain any permanent holding here. If my coming here is unsatisfactory, I can set up a meeting for you with Shougo-san and Fujishiro-san.” Sakuraba waited patiently for Habashira to respond, quietly proud of his confident delivery of the introduction and request. Habashira hadn’t ceased frowning, but Megu had sat back down and both of them scrutinized Sakuraba intently.

Finally Habashira spoke, his tone incredibly dubious. “Lemme get this straight. Sakuraba Haruto, the starting receiver of the Oujou White Knights, is now the _fucking_ Armament’s Outside Advisor. And you came to Zokugaku, unarmed and without back up, simply to let me know that you guys would _be in the area?_ ”

Sakuraba held Habashira’s stare. “Yes, that’s right.”

Habashira looked to Megu and she tilted her head in a way that the other teen obviously understood, because then he yelled towards the door. “Oi! Toko!” A minute later one of the underclassmen that had been milling around outside poked his head into the room.

“Yeah, what’s up Habashira-san?”

“Go get us a case a soda.” Nodding, Toko left to complete his assigned task and Habashira glared at Sakuraba. “I’ve _gotta_ hear how this shit happened. Sit the fuck down Sakuraba, you’re gonna be here a while.”

Vvv

_Later that night, after Daehyun had escorted Sakuraba out of the school and he had made his way home, the receiver had made two calls. The first was to Kim, passing on a message from Daehyun since the other’s phone had been destroyed and then briefly detailing how the meeting had gone. The second had been to Shougo, and it was actually the first time that Sakuraba had deemed it necessary to call his boss._

_“Habashira-san wants to meet both you and Fujishiro-san.” Sakuraba told Shougo around halfway through their conversation, after he had expounded on the rest of the meeting. “He said that he wanted to see if you two had pride.”_

_Shougo was silent for a bit before he replied. “I hope he’ll find what he’s looking for then.”The conversation ended fairly quickly after that, Shougo citing another call coming in on his end. Sakuraba was fine with it, after all, if he was tired for tomorrow’s training then Shogun would have his head._

Vvv

The day after the White Knights had beaten the Pirates 27-0, the entire team was back at Oujou for a day of moderate training, which was what the team did the day after every game. Shogun didn’t want anyone hurting themselves under his watch after all.

Their match against Bando was to be in a week’s time, directly after Deimon would play Seibu. Takami had thoroughly researched the Spiders, reporting a solid defence and a penchant for kick plays, so for the majority of the Sunday Sakuraba and Takami had been practicing their routes and synchronization.

Sakuraba felt invigorated, the weight of his fears of discovery had not affected him since his meeting with Habashira and Megu. Even his teammates had finally noticed that he was acting different; just yesterday Sakuraba had opted to join Shin on his post game jog instead of going to the Yakiniku restaurant, and even afterwards Shin had reported that the receiver had left for home while smiling. Whatever the cause of this change in behaviour, the White Knights were glad for it; none of them ever wanted Sakuraba to return to his previously depressed state.

Being that Sakuraba was holding more notice with his team these days, it was no surprise that the other Amefuto players kept a watchful eye on him while he was nearby, just in case they saw he was about to slip. So when Sakuraba’s phone blared loudly from his bag and the receiver immediately ditched the water break to answer it, every single ear near the cooler (that being the entire team) focused in on the conversation.

“Hello?” Sakuraba paused. “Oh, hello Kim-san. No, I’m free. What do you need?” Sakuraba turned briefly to look at his teammates, all of whom were doing remarkably well at hiding the fact that they were eavesdropping. “So they’re in Anjou right now? What’s Himekawa-san up to?” Sakuraba folded his arm underneath his other elbow and shifted to one foot, oblivious that he was being supervised at that moment. “I see. How about you use his mask as a decoy? They’ll have heard about Himekawa-san at some point if they did their research, and I know that Yamaguchi and Shimada get just as reckless as Nara-san when they haven’t done anything for a while.” Another pause, this time longer as whomever Sakuraba was talking to replied to the blonde’s suggestion. “Okay, okay. Thanks for asking my opinion Kim-san. If you wouldn’t mind, tell Fujishiro-san to be careful when going there? Thanks, bye.”

When Sakuraba turned back to the cooler everyone was staring directly at him, dropping any pretence of ignoring him. The blonde’s ears turned red, but he didn’t explain any of it, so the team resolved to put the curious incident aside for now. All of them were just glad that their receiver wasn’t putting himself down or frantically trying to excuse himself from the situation.

Vvv

They were one game closer to the Kanto tournament. Sakuraba could feel the adrenaline from playing Amefuto seeping through his body, ebbing away too slowly to stop his smile from brightening. He was stringing himself out on the high of success and anticipation, and he was perfectly fine with it.

Though some of it had been overshadowed by the return of a portion of his fan base and Ito agreeing to market him for his Amefuto skills only, the significance of this game to him could not be outmatched by anything. With this they had qualified for the Kanto tournament, and now it wouldn’t matter how well they did in the following game; though they would be sure to win. The fact still remained that _they had qualified!_

With that in mind, Shogun announced another trip out for Yakiniku, this time at a better place than they usually frequented. Yakiniku Aldente, despite the oddly foreign name, was an all-Japanese style restaurant closer to Oujou than Bull Yakiniku, but also more expensive. It took a few minutes for the White Knights to acclimatize to the expanded menu, but as soon as they did it was a free for all.

“Sakuraba, I noticed that you got a class one for mopeds.” Takami commented lightly, the two of them and Shin being the only ones at their table. Sakuraba had planned on keeping it under wraps, but unfortunately the card had slipped out of the receiver’s wallet as they were changing after the game.

“Er, yeah.” Sakuraba began awkwardly, not really sure how to explain it to his captain. “I’m only barely with Jari Production now, yeah? So I thought, well, anything that might go on a resume.”

“Good thinking.” Takami said diplomatically, passing Sakuraba a plate for his scraps. Shin placed his chopsticks down after he had finished his required intake for the evening, and silently stood in order to go and do... whatever it was he did for twenty minutes afterwards. “So, why a moped and not a motorcycle or a racing bike?”

“A big motorcycle’s a bit much for me.” Sakuraba admitted, having tried one of the bulkier machines way back at the induction party. He was not going to get a racing bike because that would just give Zenjirou more of a cause to tease him. “Mopeds can be taken into smaller places and don’t cost as much. I was thinking of a 50cc or a 100cc, they can go pretty far and a road trip eventually sounds nice.”

Well, it would be nice to do it _after_ he was finished high school. By then the Armament would probably have entered a new generation, and Sakuraba hoped that one of his new friends might want to come along with him when he went. For a few minutes he and Takami sat quietly, both content to watch the rest of their teammates quarrel over pieces of meat or Wakana’s attention. When Shin returned, he came bearing a rather confusing question about Sakuraba-themed sneakers, but that was forgotten in lieu of easy conversation and good jokes at Sakuraba’s expense.

Sakuraba was having such a nice time that he didn’t even realize that the time was drawing closer to when he would call his contacts in Toarushi. That came and went, and Sakuraba was sitting back down after having gotten up to grab some vegetables for Takami when his phone rang, loud enough to hear even over the din created by Otawara and Ikari. Embarrassed at forgetting Kim’s nightly call, Sakuraba answered the phone without thinking about where he was sitting.

“Hello Kim-san.” Static crackled in his ear, something that usually didn’t happen with Kim’s phone.

“Haruto-kun, its Shougo. I’m calling about the fight you discussed briefly with Kim the other day.” Sakuraba’s posture straightened abruptly, causing Takami and Shin to exchange a look.

“Ah, of course. What is it you need?” Sakuraba asked, although he had an idea where this was going.

“We’re going to settle this conflict tonight. If you’re available, I’d like you to support us with your presence at the warehouse at eleven.” Sakuraba checked his watch and nodded imperceptibly.

“...yeah, I can be there. I’ll take the train.” There was silence on Shougo’s end for a minute.

“Thanks, Haruto-kun. I should warn you though.” And here Shougo’s voice tinged with restrained laughter. “It isn’t just Kei, Kenichirou and Kenshou you have to meet now. We’ve gained a new member, Seki Eizou, and three new prospects that are going to make up the eighth generation. They’re a little rebellious, but try and get along with them.” Laughing, Sakuraba was glad that Shougo sounded normal even before such a large confrontation.

“I’ll see to it that we get along, don’t sweat it Shougo-san. I know what I’m getting myself into.” Shougo wished him a good trip and hung up; as Sakuraba stood to leave, he felt Takami’s eyes following him.

“Can I give you a ride anywhere Sakuraba?” The older teen asked without hesitation. The receiver shook his head and gestured vaguely in the direction of the exit.

“It’s fine Takami-san, my house isn’t too far from here, I can manage.” Not giving the quarterback any time to protest, Sakuraba quickly went to tell Shogun that he was leaving and then departed for his home. If this was going to become a frequent occurrence, he would have to get his own bike sooner than he had thought.

Vvv

“Sakuraba?! Oh my god, what happened to you?!” Takami sounded incredibly shocked and worried upon the receiver’s appearance at practice the next day. The captain forced his teammate onto one of the benches so that he could be checked over.

Sakuraba was a little worse for wear, after the night that he had just come out of. An impressive shiner was developing directly over his right eye, and his left cheek was covered by a bandage; the awful scrape underneath extended over the entire left side of his face, just missing his split lip. Upon Sakuraba taking his shirt off, it was discovered that his torso and arms were _covered_ in developing bruises. Sakuraba’s hands, his lifeblood, were thankfully only marred by slight scrapes to the knuckles, and as Takami drew away he was visibly shaking (whether in anger or shock no one could tell).

The blonde smiled nervously, slipping his shirt back on underneath the scrutinizing gazes of his entire team and the intense stare Shin was directing at him. “Uhm... you should see the other guy?” The try for levity was unappreciated and a whack to the back of his head was his reward.

“Sakuraba. What the _hell_ is this?” Shogun demanded from his spot behind the now seething Takami. Said receiver lowered his head, paused for barely a second, and resolved to tell the clearly worried men as much of the truth as he deemed he could.

“Do you remember that relative I stayed with during the summer break?” When Takami nodded the blonde continued. “He called me last night and asked for my help with moving into his new apartment in Edogawa-ku*. The area in Setagaya-ku he lives in is... not the best, to say the least.” Takami had stopped shaking and was now staring blankly at Sakuraba; the receiver knew that he was going through last night’s conversation in his mind. Sakuraba did, in actuality, feel incredibly guilty for lying so blatantly to his first group of friends in order to conceal the second, but he would tell anyone who asked that he was a coward in this; he wasn’t ready for the inevitable confrontation. “It was a good thing he called me, because when I was upstairs he was jumped. Shougo never picked up on the concept of retreat, so he took them on, and when I saw him on the ground I just... snapped.” Sakuraba scratched the back of his neck in false regret. “I wasn’t trying to be funny when I said that, ‘you should see the other guy’. The nearest thing to me was a golf club and... well, I’m sure you can imagine the rest...”

All of this was a simple telling of half truths that Sakuraba had thought over last night but was now being pulled out of his ass. He had indeed stayed with Shougo, had left last night to help the same man out with something, and had really gone all out when he had seen someone on the ground during the ensuing fight. That was where the similarities abruptly ended.

Last night had been the agreed upon deciding brawl between The Front of Armament and the Evil Moth of Death. Sakuraba hadn’t used any weapon, and he had fought against four or five guys over the course of an hour and a half, even if none of his fights had been one-on-ones. It was Kuwahara who had been briefly taken down by an elbow to the back of the head, and that had been when Sakuraba had gotten into it with Itakura Kazuyuki, the man who had given him his shiner and split lip.

“You should have told one of us, what if you had been in this ‘Shougo’s’ place? Worse yet, what if you had misjudged your relative’s penchant for confrontation?” Sakuraba really _had_ worried the other teen hadn’t he, if the quarterback was speaking in hypotheticals.

“I didn’t think of that, Takami-san. I’m extremely sorry for worrying you, and I will try not to do so again in the future.” Takami sighed and nodded, accepting his apology for now, but Shogun pushed past the captain.

“Recklessness or stupidity, you aren’t doing any pass training today. Go jog on route number four and be back before noon so I can inspect some of those.” Sakuraba dutifully made his way to the change rooms, glad that his explanation had been accepted by them.

Once Sakuraba had left on his jog and had been out of sight for over five minutes, Shogun turned to Takami. “I want you to look up any ‘Shougo’ in Setagaya or Edogawa who could be related to Sakuraba. I want a word with him.” Takami’s glasses flashed ominously and a few streets away a shiver went down Sakuraba’s spine.

“I was about to do that exact thing, coach.”

Vvv

Sakuraba thanked Kami that Miracle Ito was still in his life, as he entered the school’s bathroom after getting away from his team for a minute. Before the awards ceremony, Ito had taken one look at the blonde’s still healing face and whisked him over to a conveniently located makeup chair to have the blemishes covered up. They had remained so throughout most of the day, even when being accosted by fans, pat on the back by his teammates or jostled on the way back to Oujou. The makeup had made his day easier, but now all he wanted was to get the stuff off of him.

The rest of the White Knights were out in the school’s lounge, celebrating with soda and junk food bought by Shogun, save for Shin, but that was normal. Sakuraba was glad for a bit of quiet time away as he gently wiped the beige cream and powder off of his skin.

To think, after all the crazy things happening in his life lately that he would also get to participate in the Kanto tournament. To fight on the greatest battlefield he had ever known, to connect with his teammates in both achievement and failure, to know the feeling of seeing their dream come so close to being a reality that they could almost touch it...

“Sakuraba-kun, are you alright in there?” Wakana’s question, timid and sincere, sounded from outside the door to the single washroom.

“Just lost in thought, Wakana-san!” Sakuraba replied, giving his rag a rinse before repeating the process, not wanting to tear away any of the scabbing on his wounds. He heard Wakana leave and then felt a buzzing in his pocket.

 _Congrats on getting into the tournament Haruto-kun._ Read the text, from Shougo. Another came up seconds later, _Better not lose now!_ From Zenjirou. _I’ll treat you to ramen when ya win this thing,_ came from Akira right after that. A few other texts came quickly, most along the same lines, and Sakuraba smiled even with the sting in his cheek. When Sakuraba exited the restroom a few minutes later, he found Wakana coming over to him with a plate of pizza and a can of orange juice.

“Here; everyone was eating so much that coach cut them off. You haven’t eaten yet though.” Thanking the manager, Sakuraba took the plate and accompanied Wakana back to the party and to the table where Takami sat with Ikari.

“So, did I tell you that I’m getting a moped?”

Vvv

Don’t expect them this quick from now on, because this was pre written with chapter two, but I am definitely still doing this fic, I’m loving it so far. Also, a pet peeve of mine is the lack of a proper translator’s note for one thing in the manga. At one point someone says that a guy got addicted to ‘Anpan’. In Japanese, Anpan is a type of sweet bun, so it sounds a little ridiculous if taken literally. But taking into account slang words, it is then revealed that ‘Anpan’ is the Japanese slang term for paint thinners, and thus it makes sense that he would disapprove of someone getting addicted to them.

***Sakuraba should have a few people from Jari that he can talk to; I have contacts from a job at Denny’s for goodness sake**

***members of the Armament being referred to as officers is a common thing**

***Pyonkichi: in the translators note they said that Pyonkichi was a frog character from a 70s anime, and while this is true it is not why Akira calls Himekawa that. “Pyon” is the onomatopoeia for the sound that rabbits make in Japanese, and the suffix “-kichi” is used for people who are really into things. So “Pyonkichi” is Akira commenting that Himekawa must really like rabbits, and thus is an easy identifier.**

***my explanation for their bowing style is 2 parts observation and three parts bullshit, seriously I cannot find any evidence that it exists in the real world can someone help me???**

***About the open early on Sunday thing; this is head canon, I don’t know if Japan ever went through with having ‘the Lord’s day’**

***Takami stating the obvious; okay, I know he’s saying this to tell the audience, but in the universe...**

***Kim Daehyun is in Zokugaku because that family is crazy man. Kim’s older brother Hyonchol was a leader in Hyakki during TFOA’s 1 st generation, why wouldn’t Daehyun be in Zokugaku?**

***being a leader in a gang; Shougo is sometimes referred to as _the_ leader of TFOA, but if anyone is referred to as _a_ leader than it just means that they’re a high ranking member of whatever gang they’re a part of**

***How does Sakuraba know how to talk to Habashira respectfully and properly? Part of it is that the Japanese are usually taught to be very polite, but it’s also that he practiced with Takumi and Kim**

***Edogawa-ku is closer to Arakawa-ku than Setagaya-ku, and is closer to Toarushi’s direction as well**


	4. A Strange Vacation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not my best chapter, I'll admit, but I needed to get it out and start anew. The updates will be very slow now.

Disclaimer: I don’t own anything.

WARNING: SPOILERS ARE DEFINITELY AHEAD.

                Sakuraba’s first words upon being greeted at the door by the bandaged form of his boss were, “You look like hell, Shougo-san,” and the man only laughed in response to the blunt accuracy. Nearly a week and a half after the fight against the Evil Moth of Death, the gang leader still had to lean heavily on the doorframe in order to stay steady on his feet, and the entire left side of his face was hidden by a swath of bandages and medical tape.

“Fuu... I could say the same to you. Hoping you’ll have a scar to match mine?” Rolling his eyes, Sakuraba shouldered the door fully open, helping Shougo to move back inside the small apartment before he made himself pass out.

After the awards ceremony, Shogun had taken one look at his beat up receiver, wound up linebacker and frazzled quarterback and had given the entire team two weeks off from practice, “so you _rest,_ ” he had stressed. Sakuraba was glad for the recovery period, as beyond giving him time to spend in Toarushi, it also offered the added bonus that he could finally repay Shougo for nursing him back to health by doing the same. So, early this morning Sakuraba had packed a bag, locked his doors and then had set off on the side roads toward Toarushi.

“This is the bathroom, and... here’s the room you’ll be staying in.” Shougo said as he grasped Sakuraba’s shoulder, too stubborn to go back to bed while his guest was still unfamiliar with his home, but too out of it to walk on his own for very long. “I hope you’re fine with a futon, it’s all I’ve got.”

“I’ll be fine.” Sakuraba answered, leaving Shougo briefly so that he could place his backpack onto the folded up mattress. “Now, back to bed; I don’t want you dying on me.”

Shougo frowned at the blonde and attempted a glare; an action which lost its effectiveness with one of his eyes hidden by a wad of gauze. “I can stay awake for some time yet. I just woke up.” Sakuraba glared right back, folding his arms across his chest and looking far more intimidating than he meant to.

“Shougo-san, you can _barely_ stand up by yourself. I’ll swing by the base, grab some groceries maybe, then when I get back we can talk. Kay?” A long stretch of silence followed the blonde’s pseudo-suggestion, until Shougo sighed and gestured vaguely, accepting his defeat. Sakuraba immediately and cheerfully helped the other man return to his room and then left the apartment, clambering back onto his moped to head over to the junkyard.

It wasn’t that he didn’t _want_ to talk to Shougo right away, because he did, but he wanted his boss to at least be fully rested before then, since it was obvious he wouldn’t be back to normal for another week at the earliest. Sakuraba had been present in Toarushi all of three times since he had joined the Armament, and now that he was here he wanted to make his time count for something.

Sakuraba didn’t want to feel like a transient in the Front after he had finally decided to be proud of his place in it.

Pulling up to the gates of the base, Sakuraba dismounted his bike so he could jimmy the handle like Akira had shown him in order to open the deadbolt, and then pulled his moped the rest of the way inside. Despite the late month in the year the air was quite warm today, evidenced further by the sight of Todokin walking around in just a t-shirt and jeans.

“Hey there, Goukin-kun!” Sakuraba called, keeping in mind that the younger teen had asked him not to use his nickname when they had met the week before. “How are you doing today?”

“Sakuraba-san!” The scarred youth exclaimed, jogging over as soon as he heard the blonde’s voice. “I’m doing better since ‘the chin’ left. Fucker’s been hanging around all morning. How’re you?”

“ _Still_ a bit stiff from that brawl, but I’m glad you’re up and about. Is anyone else around?” Todokin shook his head and looked over to the office building.

“Nah, Fujishiro-san won’t be here until his meeting with EMOD’s vicehead in the afternoon.” Sakuraba hummed, having forgotten that tidbit until now. “I’ve been the only other one since the- uh... since Renzou left. He’s still bitching about being sore from his one-on-one.” Todokin scowled fiercely, as if the very thought of his fellow prospect was enough to tick him off, and Sakuraba smiled in amusement.

“Thanks, Goukin-kun. I’ll be in town for the next two weeks, so don’t hesitate to call me up.” Todokin smiled at the receiver and told him he would keep the offer in mind, and waved him out of the gates, leaving Sakuraba to his mission of getting some groceries. Sakuraba really didn’t understand why Akira was always so irritated with the prospect if Zenjirou’s ramblings were to be believed; he himself got along just fine with the younger man after Todokin’s first awkward and halting self-introduction.

Driving along, Sakuraba noted his surroundings and thought that it must be nearing lunch, what with students milling around everywhere, especially in the roadside food stands. A small price to pay for his two week absence from Oujou was going to be the amount of catching up academically he would be forced to do once he returned, because he was positive Takami wouldn’t be letting him skive off anymore than he already was. Sakuraba laughed out loud when he remembered Takami’s expression from yesterday, causing a pair of teens on the sidewalk to jump in surprise.

After a few more minutes of aimless driving, Sakuraba pulled to the side of the street and fished out the map of Toarushi he had printed out in preparation. According to the mass of blue and red squiggles, the Amefuto player was in the Akushu district, close to a shopping centre if he headed left and a high school if he kept going straight. As he was contemplating his next move, Sakuraba heard a squawk from behind him, accompanied by the halt of footfalls.

“Wh-what’s the Armament doing here?” A voice asked slightly hysterically, loud enough that the blonde could clearly hear him but low enough that whoever it was probably thought they were being discreet.

“I could get rid of him.” Another offered, deeper than the first and with a tone that made Sakuraba square his shoulders.

“It’s fine, Sakota. I know who that is.” Eyes widening in surprise, Sakuraba quickly swivelled in his seat and saw Tsukishima Hana standing less than ten feet away from him, flanked by two other teens and grinning very brightly in his direction. The Amefuto player took his helmet and hung it from his handlebars so that he could stand, returning the grin as he stepped toward the trio.

“Hana-san, I didn’t expect to see you around here.” Hana laughed and the smaller of his two companions visibly relaxed, while the other crossed his arms gruffly. “How have you been?”

“Healthy as ever, thanks for asking! Sakuraba, these are me an’ Takumi’s dormmates, Sakota Takefumi and Tominaga Toranosuke, but just call him Tora.” Tora gave an awkward grin, as if he were still getting used to being introduced in such a fashion. “Sakota, Tora, this is Sakuraba... Haruto?” The receiver confirmed Hana’s guess with a nod. “Yeah. He’s the guy who told me where Takumi was a few weeks ago, you remember?”

“After that thing with those Scorpion bastards?” Sakota asked, his eyes narrowed at Sakuraba as if he were still thinking about ‘getting rid of him’.

“Exactly. Still not up for ramen, Sakuraba?” The blonde grinned good naturedly, inwardly amused; partly because Hana recalled his previous declination and partly at the long suffering sighs that Tora and Sakota let out simultaneously.

“Sorry, Hana-san. You have school right now don’t you?” Hana’s face grew somber, and Sakuraba wondered if he had said something wrong, so he went on. “Besides, I’ve got some errands to run for Shougo-san...”

Hana was silent for a minute, and then he grinned at Sakuraba, managing to look relieved and determined at the same time. “You’re right, Sakuraba. I’ll tell Takumi to bring you over when I’m free next time, so tell Shougo I said hi, kay?” Sakuraba nodded and Hana clapped him forcefully on the back before he set off running, followed closely by Sakota –but Tora stayed where he was, turning to face the Armament officer with an odd expression.

“Thanks. Hana has a big fight in a few hours, so ramen probably wouldn’t have helped much.” Sakuraba quirked an eyebrow.

“Is the fight very important?” Tora made a face like if Sakuraba had slapped him.

“ _Important_? It’s one of the biggest fights of the year! You haven’t heard of Hana going up against Hanaki Guriko?” Sakuraba shook his head.

“I may be in the Armament, but I live out of town. I don’t know many of Toarushi’s key players.” Tora shook his head and frowned.

“Then I should probably tell you, Hana’s very nearly the leader of Suzuran high school now.” _That_ was something that Sakuraba knew the connotations behind, and when Tora bade him goodbye a minute later he was still quietly shocked that the cheerful man who had spoken so informally to him was basically the boss of the biggest delinquent school around.

_Bzz!_

The sudden vibration from Sakuraba’s phone caused him to start, and when he read the text he sighed in an incredibly similar manner to Sakota and Tora.

 _Tried, couldn’t get to sleep. Come back here before I do something reckless to relieve my boredom._ Sakuraba really did want to pick up a few things, but he supposed that keeping Shougo out of trouble took precedent this time around.

Driving back to Shougo’s apartment was uneventful, but easier for Sakuraba due to the various landmarks he was now beginning to recognize. It was odd, thinking of how easily he was adapting to this town and all his new crazy, delinquent friends. A few months ago, he would have balked and distanced himself from Hana after finding out the man’s status, much in the way he used to treat the students of Zokugaku before those several hours spent with Habashira. A few months ago, he wouldn’t have even had the inclination to talkto Shougo in the first place, let alone practically order him back to bed with as much familiarity as he had done today. When Sakuraba pulled back up to the front of his friend’s home, he only gave the smallest of thoughts as to how he himself had changed since meeting Shougo, before he squared his shoulders in preparation for telling said man off.

Removing his boots and coat, Sakuraba stuck them in the entranceway closet, and only then did he notice the smell of cooked meat lingering in the air. Sakuraba went through the kitchen, his stomach starting to growl on the way, and then he was in the living room where he found what he was looking for.

“So I got a little restless...” Shougo said from his kotatsu, grinning none too apologetically and holding out what looked like a can of beer, obviously expecting the receiver to take it. There was a plate in the middle of the table piled high with Tonkatsu, beside which were two bowls of rice –against his will, Sakuraba felt his irritation start to wane. He really didn’t mind, he thought to himself as he took the beer before Shougo could complain about his arm getting tired; he had already known that his boss probably wouldn’t follow his advice. Lowering himself down onto the seat opposite his friend, Sakuraba draped the kotatsu blanket over his knees and pulled one of the bowls of rice towards him.

“Do you know who Tsukishima Hana is?” Sakuraba asked, swiping a few pieces of meat with his chopsticks and drawing a wry grin from his host.

“Who _doesn’t_... wait, did you hear about him all the way in _Tokyo_?” Sakuraba laughed at the unabashed incredulity on Shougo’s face and shook his head.

“No, I met him a few weeks ago, and again just now, he said to tell you ‘hi’. Apparently he has a big fight today?” Shougo sipped at his beer and nodded, propping his head up with his good arm; Sakuraba chuckled at the wince he gave from bumping a particularly bad bruise on his jaw.

“Against Hanaki Guriko. I don’t envy him; my fight with Muneharu will look like a child’s spat in comparison.” Sakuraba paled; if Shougo’s fight with EMOD’s leader –the most impressive fight the receiver had ever witnessed off the gridiron –would look paltry next to Hana’s fight, then Sakuraba didn’t envy the bald man either. “Speaking of, I wanted to ask you if you still think my idea of an alliance with his team is a good one.”

Shougo had called Sakuraba up a day or so after the fight, and at the time the blonde _may_ have given off the impression that he was unsure about the proposal, since he was still extremely sore from his one-on-one with Itakura. But in the intervening days he had taken to think it over, Sakuraba had come to a distinct conclusion.

“I think that you were right to make the suggestion. Is that why Fujishiro-san is meeting with... uh-”

“Kuniyoshi.”

“Yeah, him.” Shougo affirmed, and so Sakuraba continued. “Whatever Maekawa’s answer is, I’m sure everything will work out. They seemed like a team made up of good men.” Shougo lapsed into a thoughtful trance, and so Sakuraba reached for another piece of meat, content to just sit with his friend for the time being.

Vvv

Sakuraba did eventually get to the grocers that day, though it took a few hours and two more beers on Shougo’s part for him to get tired enough to concede to actual sleep this time around. On his way back, the receiver made a point of driving past Suzuran high school –maybe he could glean the outcome of the fight since Shougo seemed to be so invested in it –but apparently he got there too early if the students in surgical masks charging admission were any indication. When he returned once again to Shougo’s apartment he took a few minutes to redress a few of his worse injuries, take a couple of pain meds and make a light dinner that hopefully wouldn’t upset his host’s drunken stomach.

That night, after the hollering of distant voices had died down and Shougo had surged into the room with a “Hana _lost,_ ” spilling from his lips before he’d even regained his balance, Sakuraba made sure to answer the worried texts from his quarterback. While Takami’s face _had_ been funny upon finding out Sakuraba was skipping two whole weeks of school, he knew the older teen was just concerned about his health and his grades. So Sakuraba answered his questions while under the ‘with my relative, Shougo’ guise, and left the conversation at that.

Vvv

“Hm...” Takami mumbled to himself, scribbling away on a piece of paper as he read through Sakuraba’s texts again, trying to ignore the incessant gum popping coming from his companion. The quarterback was using the two week break Shogun had afforded the team to research some experimental plays from the NFL that they might be able to adapt, but also to follow up on Shogun’s request of looking into the ‘Shougo’ that Sakuraba had claimed as his relation.

Unfortunately for his curiosity, Takami had found it very difficult to find any Shougos in the two wards that Sakuraba had described who might be a match. There were roughly 700,000 people in Edogawa and 850,000 in Setagaya, and upon looking up the records of those who had moved out, there had been about 200 ‘Shougo’s who had left Setagaya in the past two months. Narrowing it down, there had been 152 left after excluding those under the age of fifteen, and 127 after eliminating anyone above forty (due to Sakuraba’s comment on ‘not knowing when to retreat’). Get rid of the women and that brought it down to 113, and then check who had moved to Edogawa-ku specifically... and there were 14.

But that was where the problems were. Literally none of those fourteen Shougos could be linked to Sakuraba in any way whatsoever –and Takami had made sure to investigate in _every_ way. If he didn’t know any better, Takami might have thought that Sakuraba was lying about knowing a Shougo, but the receiver had spoken on the phone with the mystery man _in Takami’s presence._ The more Takami went over the data the more frustrated with it he grew, and after awhile he had decided to do the one thing he never wanted to have to.

“Here, this is everything I have.” Takami said reluctantly after he had finished copying down the texts, handing the small file of papers over to the man sitting across from him at the table. “Once the tournament is over, find out who this ‘Shougo’ is and tell me. Then... _I’ll owe you_.”

A grin full of razors was shot at him. “Kekekekeh... sure thing, fucking glasses. You’ve got a _deal._ ”

Vvv

The following day was easier on the convalescing amefuto player, though it also happened to be more interesting as a whole. Early in the morning he was awoken by a phone call from Kim and ended up taking a walk with him out by the river just as the sun was coming up. The Korean man was frustrated and tired and needed someone to rant to, and he told Sakuraba that the blonde seemed the least likely out of everyone to throttle him over an early wake up call –Sakuraba didn’t know if he should feel honoured or put out about that impression.

“These fuckin guys all over town shouting and dicking around, not letting us upstanding citizens get any goddamn sleep –like, _kami_ , I _know_ Hana-fucking-Tsukishima lost to Guriko, and when he goes back to Suzuran and he’s the idiot leader of the idiot school I’ll have already known _that_  beforehand _too_!” Kim did a very good job at half grumbling, half shouting his ire to his sympathetic outside advisor. “I goddamn _shoulda_ woken everyone else up, Shougo fucking texting me at one in the morning and that EMOD sonuvabitch calling me –me! –asking what the hell Takumi was sayin’ about there being a world title match going on – _world title my fucking left foot, I swear I’ll kill ‘em!_ ”

“Ah, just turn off your phone, Kim-san. That’s what I do whenever Oujou wins a match nowadays.” Sakuraba suggested neutrally, trailing along behind the irate man, greatly amused. “They don’t get much to gossip about I think, so when something like this comes along...”

Kim huffed loudly, but a few minutes later he was substantially calmer. “Yeah, I guess you’ve got a point there. Punks are just gossiping housewives at their core after all. Hell, I remember when my bro used to come around I loved listening to his stories...”

“You have a brother?” Sakuraba asked interestedly.

“Yeah, he’s about six years older than me –Hyonchol’s his name. He manages a couple bars over in Kyoto now, but when I was in 6th grade he was a leader in Hyakki.” _Kim-san, your poor mother._ “Before he left, he’d tell me about all the one-on-ones he witnessed and had himself. How he saw Rindaman fight Bouya Harumichi at Goukoku Shrine, how he knew the Armament’s first generation leaders and had taken on Bitou Makio himself once, before he died...”

“...there’s a lot I don’t know about Toarushi, huh?” Sakuraba mused, distracted by the crunch of the path beneath his feet as it switched from smooth pavement to gravel. “I wanted to tell you before it got too bad –you should really have Goukin-kun and Renzou-kun work their issues out. I know things may be different here, but back home there have been several Amefuto teams that have completely fallen apart because their founding members or their leaders... didn’t respect each other.”

Kim made a noise in answer to that. “Dipshits. Like _hell_ I’ll let them take over as the 8 th with how they are now. If I get that line _one more time_ about ‘that’s just the shape their Armament will take’... Shougo’s soft on them ‘cause they remind him of how Kiyohiro-san and Kawachi-san were back before they took over as the 6 th.”

“He told me about that, a little.” Sakuraba hedged, not knowing whether Kim was as affected by his former leader’s passing as Shougo had been. “Maybe get them to duke it out... _before_ we all retire? It’ll save Shinya-kun a lifetime’s worth of stress, I’m sure.”

Kim stopped short for a split second, but recovered just as quickly, slapping Sakuraba on the shoulder and barking out a laugh. “I’m beginning to like you, Sakuraba! Just make sure the rest of our idiots don’t rot your brain!”

They had walked and chatted for a bit longer in an amiable mood, before Kim’s phone had blared out and he had lost it, shouting into the receiver at whoever had chosen to call him so early in the morning for ‘such a goddamned inane and shitty reason’. Sakuraba had quickly excused himself before he could start laughing at Kim’s predicament, and had then gone back to Shougo’s house so he could make breakfast for the two of them.

Later, Sakuraba had abandoned Shougo to a few hours of boredom so he could head back over to the base to assist Akira with one of his pet projects –fixing a beat up Kawasaki for his older brother’s ‘friend’. Akira had been working on it for the better part of six months whenever he had the time off from his job at the local car assembly, and it was nearly done –except for what Sakuraba was there to help with, which was screwing in the new seat that the receiver had picked up for Akira in Tokyo. _‘You should get to see it finished since you’re bringing it in.’_ Akira had said over the phone, and he hadn’t taken ‘no’ for an answer –otherwise Sakuraba would’ve been quite happy to see a photo and stick with Shougo for the morning.

Nevertheless, it proved to be a good time even without the presence of their recuperating leader –Sakuraba gamely refused to drink so early in the day even with Akira heckling him, and he was able to see Nara Asato’s (apparently) infamous friend, Ikuri, howl in emotion at the sight of the finished bike. There had been a lot of lazing about and talking, a bit of good natured scuffling between Ikuri and Akira, and even with his still healing injuries from the brawl Sakuraba had barely noticed them for all the good distractions around.

(Halfway through the day he had frozen on the spot and jolted as an ice cold shiver ran down his back. Shougo asked him curiously what the matter was, but Sakuraba had a difficult time putting the feeling into words and in the end simply said, “I think I should enjoy my time off while it lasts.”)

Sakuraba had made it a point to laze around for the rest of that afternoon with Shougo, watching a bit of daytime television, helping him with the stretches the doctor had prescribed and changing what bandages he needed changing. In the evening Shougo’s ails weighed him down and he fell asleep at the table, wincing all the while as he had managed to conk out with his head resting on his most injured arm; Sakuraba dutifully pulled him to his feel and shuffled him off to his futon. But once that was done and Sakuraba was alone in Shougo’s living room, with only himself and the ticking clock for company-

“Ah, hello, Kawachi-san.”

Vvv


End file.
